


nxncywheeler's 12 Days of Christmas Fics

by jxnehxpper



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Christmas, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, only marked mature for the smut in chap 7/day 6!, there is smut on day 6 but will be tagged!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:14:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28073796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jxnehxpper/pseuds/jxnehxpper
Summary: A collection of 12 oneshots featuring the above tagged pairings. General, non-romantic fics included as well!
Relationships: Jonathan Byers/Steve Harrington, Joyce Byers/Jim "Chief" Hopper, Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler, Steve Harrington/Reader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 42





	1. List of Days + Pairings

**Schedule**

**December 14:** _holiday harrington_ → Steve x Reader. Steve makes sure Reader has the best Christmas ever, even if it’s at his expense.

**December 15:** _the secret (santa)_ → Stonathan. Steve is psyched to get Jonathan for Secret Santa, but has a hard time figuring out what to get him. 

**December 16:** _the baker →_ Gen fic. Steve helps the kids bake and make gingerbread houses. 

**December 17:** _noel nancy_ → Stancy. Steve and Nancy spend their first Christmas together after the events of S1.

**December 18:** _gift wrap_ → Gen fic. Steve helps El wrap gifts for the Party and, in turn, gets his nails painted.

**December 19:** _stay_ → Steve x Reader. Steve thinks it’s too cold for Reader to go home, and they agree. Tipsy shenanigans ensue. Smut!

**December 20:** _the first christmas_ → Jopper. It’s Eleven’s first Christmas, and Joyce and Hopper make it everything she ever wanted it to be, while kindling their own romance.

**December 21:** _the gift_ → Stonathan. Jonathan is stuck between buying Steve something nice or buying Will new art supplies.

**December 22:** _the tree_ → Steve x Reader. Steve decorates the tree with his kids for their fifth Christmas.

**December 23:** _the exchange_ → Gen fic. Steve gives the kids their presents at their annual holiday party.

**December 24:** _pretty lights on the tree _→ Steve x Reader. Reader misses Steve during Christmas and decides to go home to visit him at the same time he decides to visit them. (based on _Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)_ )

**December 25:** _a very buckley (and henderson) christmas_ → Gen fic. After realizing that Steve will be spending the holiday alone, Robin, Dustin, and the gang ensure Steve’s happiness on Christmas day.


	2. holiday harrington

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve makes sure Reader has the best Christmas ever, even if it’s at his expense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve x Reader, angst with a happy ending u know how we do it 'round here <3

  
“Why are we doing this again?”

Robin doesn’t even look up. “So we know what to get for each other.”

“I know what to get for you two,” you argue. “You want a girlfriend, and Steve wants to get laid.”

“That’s not true!” Steve says. “I also want a new job.”

“You know I can’t get you that.”

He perks up. “But you can get me laid?”

“ _Please_ ,” Robin sighs. “I am so tired of talking about your body count.”

“We haven’t talked about my body count in -”

“And, anyway,” Robin interjects. “We don’t know what to get _you_ for Christmas.”

“I don’t need anything.” You draw doodles on your notebook paper, titled _Christmas List,_ and a single bullet point with nothing beside it. 

Steve stares at the side of your face, his own softening as he gets a bit lost in your features. He just wanted you to be happy. So when he says, “I will make all of your Christmas wishes come true,” he means it.

“All of them, Stevie?”

His face flushes and he hides the pink by looking at his own paper. “Yeah. All of them.”

Robin rolls her eyes.

You all copy each other’s lists before you leave their apartment. You wonder how you’re supposed to know if Robin did the same for Steve, and vice versa, but Robin had a plan from the beginning. Of course she did. 

“Okay, _Santa,_ ” she sighs, scooting closer to him to examine your list. “Let’s see what they got.”

_Christmas ~~List~~ Wishes _

_A nice candle. ???_

_A clean house._

_A good laugh._

_A cute date._

_A kiss under mistletoe._

_Snow. Lots of it._

_The Official Steve Harrington Christmas Cookbook. Signed._

“I’ll get the candle,” Robin says.

Steve scoffs, too deep in thought to even hear her. “I’m not giving away my recipes.”

Robin narrows her eyes at him. “Did you miss the cute date part?”

“That’s not about me,” he says quietly, playing with the edges of the paper. 

“You don’t know that.”

“I do, Robin. Why would they say they want a date on a list of things I have to get them?”

Robin shrugs her shoulders. “Might be worth a shot.”

Steve just wanted you to be happy. And if that meant without him, then so be it.

===

A knock sounds at your door on December 5th. 

Steve Harrington stands in your doorway, holding a bucket and cleaning supplies, yellow gloves already on. He grins dopily when you reveal yourself. “Hi.”

“Hi?”

“Clean house,” he says. “Second thing on your list.”

You laugh and move to let him come in, gingerly taking some supplies from his hands. “Christmas isn’t for another twenty days, Steve.”

“ _Yes,_ but your house needs to be clean _for_ Christmas, so we need to clean now.” He sits his supplies down and tries to run a gloved hand through his hair before he stops himself. 

“Do you know how to clean?”

He purses his lips before exhaling. “Sure.”

You smile. “Okay. Let’s start.”

===

“Steve, you can’t - you can’t mix chemicals -”

“What’s the issue?”

“It makes, like, mustard gas.”

“What?”

You suppress a smile. “It can kill you.”

He sits up from leaning over, settling on his knees. He wipes a bit of sweat from his forehead. “That makes sense. I think my brain is melting.”

You laugh and stand, helping him up from your kitchen floor. “Come on, let’s get you somewhere less toxic.”

You lead him to the couch in your living room and help him sit. Steve gently pulls you down next to him and you sit, thigh pressed against thigh, letting your hand linger slightly on his before pulling away. “Are you okay?”

“I may be high,” he says. 

You smirk. “Knew you didn’t know how to clean.”

Steve pokes your side and you jump before settling into a comfortable silence. 

“Hey,” he says suddenly. “Your tree isn’t decorated.”

Your eyes wander towards it, set up in the corner, the ornaments in a box beside it. “I haven’t gotten to it yet.”

Steve pulls himself up, then you. “Let’s do it.”

“I thought you were cleaning my house?”

“I’m obviously incapable.” He settles in front of the tree and pulls the box towards him. “But I _can_ decorate a tree.”

You sit beside him and cross your legs. “Steve. You don’t owe me anything.”

He doesn’t even falter. “I like spending time with you.”

You blush and focus your attention to the branches of the tree. “I like spending time with you, too.”

===

Steve just wanted you to be happy. 

“A cute date?” he forces himself to say. “That’s what you want for the holidays?”

You bite your cheek and hang an ornament on a high branch. “Yeah, I guess.”

Steve swallows hard and grabs a blue orb. “Anyone in mind?”

You desperately wish you could say _you, dumbass,_ but you know your chances with Steve are slim. He’d been your friend for over a year, after Keith’s business pursuits brought you together, but Steve had never so much as let his eyes linger on you. Not when you were paying attention, anyway. 

“Do you remember that guy on the basketball team? Fred?”

Steve scoffs. “You like Dead Fred?”

You glare down at him on the floor. “Why do you all have to call him that?”

“He’s pale and almost seven feet tall. He looks like Frankenstein.”

“Frankenstein is better than Dead Fred.”

Steve pauses, blinks, and nods. “Shit.”

“And I don’t necessarily _like_ Fred,” you explain, bending down to grab another bulb. “He’s just cute.”

“So you like pale skinny men?”

“ _You_ are a pale skinny man.”

Steve’s brows furrow, and you wait for him to question you, but he thankfully keeps his thoughts to himself. “So you want a date with Dead Fred for Christmas.”

“Any pale, skinny man will do.” Part of you hopes Steve _does_ take the hint, but he doesn’t, and he spends the rest of the decoration process thinking of ways to get you and Fred Middlevitch together.

===

“I’m having a party.”

You almost choke on a Signature Steve Sugar Cookie. “What? When?”

“Christmas Eve,” he says, leaning on the counter top in his kitchen. Robin rolls her eyes and almost vacates, but she wants to hear your thoughts. 

“Steve,” you say. “You haven’t had a party since, what? Junior year?”

“I - I just want to see some old friends,” he says. “It’s only going to be a few people. It’s Christmas Eve at seven. Here.”

You glance past him to Robin. “You’re okay with this?”

“I will fortunately be crashing at my parent’s place,” she says. “So you _have_ to go. I need you to make sure no one pukes on our futon.”

“And clean it if it happens,” Steve mumbles, and you shove him, making him smile. 

“Who’ll be there?”

“No one you don’t know,” he explains. “Promise, no assholes.”

You glance back at Robin. “ _Okay_ , I’ll be there.”

Steve’s stomach twists, but he forces a smile. _He just wants you to be happy._

===

Steve feels so miserable. 

He flashes smiles for everyone who comes in, makes sure they’re taken care of and introduced. Everyone slowly becomes more wild, but it’s nothing Steve’s never dealt with. He knows he can just shout _“POLICE!”_ and everyone would scatter. But he had business to do, first, and he hopes his distaste isn’t obvious when he welcomes Fred Middlevitch inside. 

“Hey, man,” he says, voice monotonous. “Thanks for coming.”

“You said there’d be someone here for me?”

Steve bites his tongue. “Yeah, they aren’t here yet. Why don’t you go get a drink?”

The bile rising in Steve’s throat makes him feel lightheaded, but he knows he has to do it. It’s just a bit of uncomfortableness for your happiness. He can handle that. He can. 

You walk in soon after, and Steve swears you’ve never been more beautiful than you are tonight. You beam at him and throw your coat on the floor. “Hey!”

“Hey,” he says, trying to sound a bit more animated for you. “You made it!”

“Somehow,” you say. “It’s snowing like crazy. You really are making my Christmas wishes come true, huh?”

Steve swallows so hard that you can visibly see his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Trying to.”

You quirk your head slightly, noticing his apprehension. “Are you okay?”

He brushes you off, but you can see through him. Steve was always a good actor. He always had this bravado he made others believe, but you’d been able to see through it before you ever became his friend. It was making a comeback now - his shoulders are rolled back, his posture is better, his chin is up. He’s wearing a cashmere sweater and designer jeans - things he always indulged in, but not so much anymore. You wonder who he’s trying to impress or fool. But before you can question him further, he sweeps you off deeper into the apartment, promising he had a surprise for you. 

You were not expecting the surprise to be seven foot tall Fred Middlevitch, but it was, and you could not believe it. 

Steve doesn’t understand the look you throw him when Fred shakes your hand. 

But you still follow Fred to the kitchen for alcohol, and as far as Steve is concerned, his work is done. He watches for a moment, biting his lip as his heart wrenches in his chest - he doesn’t understand the feeling of emptiness. It shouldn’t be a big deal. He just wants you to be happy. He turns on his heel and heads to his bedroom, quietly disappearing for the night. He doesn’t want to see anyone else except for you. 

===

Steve was onto something when he called Fred ‘Dead Fred’. The man was a boring one time jock with a voice so low that it shook your wine cooler, and his head almost hit the doorways as you mingled through the apartment. He was not the cute date or kiss under the mistletoe that you had in mind. Hell, Fred would probably bounce his goddamn head off of the mistletoe and send it careening to the ground, effectively stomping out the romance of it all. The cute boy you wanted to kiss was MIA, probably locked in his room because he hates a majority of the people here. 

You needed to get away from Fred. 

“You think Steve’s got an extra bedroom?” he asks, and you cringe. 

“No,” you say curtly, because on top of not wanting to have sex, you know Robin would kill you with her bare hands if you had coitus on her bed. 

“Bathroom?”

You shake your head in disbelief, but say, “Sure, meet me in five.”

You slip away to find Steve. 

His bedroom door is unlocked when you try it, so you step in gently, softly calling out for him. He sits up from his bed quickly with a soft, “oh,” and you can’t tell if he was crying or not from where you’re standing. You shut it behind you and frown at him. “Hey, stranger.”

“Hi,” he says. “What are you doing?”

“Getting away from Frankenstein,” you laugh. “I think his nickname suits him now.”

“Yeah.” Steve clears his throat. “You can come in.”

You press your lips together but step farther into the room, gently sitting on the edge of his bed. You can tell he’s trying so hard to stay happy for you; his face is sullen, but a fake smile rests on it. You shake your head lightly. “Steve.”

“Don’t worry about me,” he whispers, anticipating your question. “Go have fun.”

“It’s your party,” you remind, and he only bristles with a slight laugh as he looks away from you. You frown and reach for his leg - you can only really grab his shin, but it’s enough. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m okay,” he says. “Seriously. I’m okay.”

“Steve.” Your brows furrow. “Why did you throw this party? You hate, like, everyone here. And Robin didn’t even want to stay. So why did you do it?”

There’s a pause before he answers. “So you could be happy.”

Your shoulders slump. “What?”

“You just….” He sighs and stares at his bedding, an array of black and white. “I wanted to make you happy. I wanted to do everything on your list. And you said… you wanted someone to be with.” He shakes his own head a bit. “And when you were talking about Fred, you just seemed so _into_ him -”

You laugh. Loud. So loud that Steve jumps, and then he glares at you a bit. “What?”

You laugh again. “Steve. You are so stupid.”

His jaw sets. “What?”

“You are so _stupid_ ,” you repeat. “You really thought I liked Fred?”

His brows furrow hard. “You told me you did.”

“I don’t like Fred.” You swallow and play with your fingers. “I like _you.”_

Steve feels like the breath was knocked clean from his lungs, like a Demogorgon tackled him. “What?”

You crawl - awkwardly - towards him at the headboard of his bed. “ _You_ are the tall, pale, skinny boy I like.”

Steve looks like he’s pouting. “I’m not even that t-”

Your lips touch his gingerly, softly, treading lightly. Steve pauses under your touch before wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you into him. You almost lose your balance on your knees but Steve catches you, smiling briefly into the kiss before pulling back. You reach down to stroke his hair, unable to take your eyes off of him. _Steve._ Not the fake Steve, but the real Steve. The soft Steve who would accidentally create a chemical war zone in your kitchen, who would see ornaments with pictures of you as a kid and not rag you for your crooked smile, who would sacrifice his own happiness for yours. 

“Steve,” you say, reaching down to run your finger over the bridge of his nose. “I love you.”

His breath catches. “Really?”

You nod, slowly. “ _You_ make me happy.”

Steve knows he’s smiling like an idiot. He knows it. He knows it because his cheeks hurt and he can hardly see over them. But he’s smiling, and he’s _happy,_ and you’re happy, and it seems like a dream come true. He pulls you down to kiss you again and you relax into it this time, slinking down to his level on the bed, laying in his embrace beside him. He runs his thumb over your cheekbone softly and you melt, pressing yourself as close as possible against him. 

“Oh,” he says, pulling back. “I love you, too.”

You smile and kiss the tip of his nose. “Cool.”

“I guess I made your wish come true, then?” he asks, smirking. 

“No. There’s no mistletoe.”

“ _Ugh_ ,” he says, smiling. “Guess we have to kiss _again_.”

“Guess so,” you murmur. “Merry Christmas, Stevie.”

Steve smiles. “Merry Christmas.”


	3. the (secret) santa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is psyched to get Jonathan for Secret Santa, but has a hard time figuring out what to get him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stonathan, mainly fluff!
> 
> Jonathan is Jewish here bc I love that headcanon <3 I used the Internet to tell me when Hanukkah was in 1986, and it said it was December 26th-January 3rd, so that's what I used! hope u enjoy <3

_30 days before Christmas; 31 days before Hanukkah_

Steve knew Jonathan, but Steve didn’t _know_ Jonathan. Not the way he’d like to, at least. 

When he got Jonathan for Secret Santa, he was ecstatic. It seemed like the perfect way to get closer to him - to make things right, to see him in personal and intimate ways. Ways he has always wanted to. He was excited, until he realized that he didn’t know much about Jonathan, save that he made the bat Steve currently had in his trunk, liked to cook, was cute, and was a photographer. And Steve had already gotten Jonathan a camera, so that wasn’t a viable gift. Plus, the budget was twenty dollars. 

Twenty dollars did _not_ seem like enough money to spoil Jonathan Byers like he deserved. 

So Steve did the only thing he knew how, which was talk, and try to be sneaky about it. 

===

_28 days before Christmas; 29 days before Hanukkah_

“ _Jonathan!”_

Jonathan and Will both turned on their heels to face the voice that had rung out. Will rolls his eyes when he sees Steve jogging towards them - of course it was Steve. And of course he wanted to talk to Jonathan. How neither of them saw it, he doesn’t know, but he climbs into the passenger seat to give them some space. They’ll get it soon enough.

“Hey,” Jonathan says, shoving his hands hastily into his pockets, as if he had something to hide. “What’s up?”

“Hey, man,” Steve pants, leaning forward just slightly and gripping his side. “Do you like music?”

“What?”

“You know?” Steve licks his lips. “Do you listen to music?”

Jonathan’s brows twitch together. “Yeah, I - I listen to music.”

“Me too.”

Jonathan stares, which is all he really knows how to do around Steve. Stare and observe. Take in the brunette and blonde locks, how they curl a bit on the end, how they all fall perfectly into place when Steve runs a tired hand through them. How his sweater is the color of red maple leaves in the fall, and how it clings to his shoulders. How that sweater rides up when Steve straightens, showing Jonathan the pale and smooth skin of his hips.

“What kind of music?”

Jonathan blinks and shoves his hands deeper into his pockets. He glances back to Will, smiling knowingly from the passenger seat, then back to Steve. “I kinda - I gotta take Will home.”

“Shit,” Steve mumbles, then bends forward to wave at Will. Jonathan’s still watching the way the sweater rides up. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”

“‘s okay,” Jonathan says with a bit of a laugh. 

It’s at this point Jonathan realizes what’s going on. Steve was not very subtle about being his Secret Santa. And if that’s not it, then Steve is making an enormous effort to be Jonathan’s friend, and who is he to deprive him of that?

“The Smiths.”

“Who?”

“The Smiths,” he repeats. “And The Cure. Stuff like that.”

It takes Steve a moment to realize these are bands and not families in Hawkins. “Oh. _Oh_. Awesome. That’s so cool.”

There’s an awkward pause before Jonathan asks, “You?”

“Queen,” Steve says, almost immediately. “Yeah. Queen. And, like, other stuff, too.”

“Oh. Cool.”

“Yeah.”

Will knocks on the window and raises his eyebrows at Jonathan, because the sight was honestly a bit painful. Jonathan looks, then back to Steve. “I should -”

“Yeah,” Steve says again. “Yeah, go ‘head, don’t let me keep you.”

Jonathan doesn’t know why he feels so damn giddy, why a smile tugs at the corners of his thin lips, but it’s happening. He tucks his face towards the collar of his shirt as he rounds the car. “See you, Steve.”

“See you,” Steve calls back.

He wonders why Will is looking at him like that. 

===

_25 days before Christmas; 26 days until Hanukkah_

There’s something about Jonathan Byers under the glow of Christmas lights. 

Maybe it’s the mustard colored sweater he’s wearing, casting a warm glow on his face and illuminating the blonde in his hair. Maybe it’s just the holidays. Either way, Jonathan Byers looked beautiful, and it was just the two of them in Mike’s basement while the kids ran upstairs for snacks. 

“Are you ready for Christmas?” Steve asks, his knee against Jonathan’s.   
  


Jonathan bristles. “Oh, we celebrate Hanukkah.”

“Oh,” Steve whispers. “I - do you still do presents and stuff?”

“We do.” Jonathan shifts, bumping his knee against Steve’s again. “But we light the menorah and everything, too.”

“Oh.” 

Steve mulls over the logistics of getting someone who is Jewish a Christmas present, but Jonathan luckily says, “So I could do the Secret Santa, because we still exchange presents. My family does, anyway.”

Steve hopes his sigh of relief isn’t too noticeable. 

“What other things do you like?” Steve asks. “I - I just realized that we never really got to know each other.”

Jonathan feels himself about to smile again. “Music-wise?”

“Anything-wise.”

Jonathan doesn’t like talking about materialistic things, so he mumbles. Steve has to lean close to hear, and it makes his hair stand on end. “I like photography. And… peace.”

“Peace?” Steve smiles. “Past few years must have been real hell for you.”

Jonathan laughs mirthlessly. “Yeah, they were.” He takes a deep breath. “And I like drawing, sometimes. But Will’s better than me.”

Steve scoffs. “ _Doubt it._ ”

“What?”

“I - no. Shit. That’s not what I meant - I mean, like, I’m sure you’re good, too.”

Jonathan lets out a confused laugh. “Thanks.” He relaxes, and his knee is _firm_ against Steve’s now, and both of their breaths hitch. “I really like seeing my friends happy. And I like seeing Will happy. And mom.” _And you,_ he wants to say, but it’s caught half in his chest and half in his throat. 

“How is your mom?”

Jonathan wasn’t expecting that. “She’s doing okay.”

“Good. Good.” There’s a sincerity behind Steve’s voice that Jonathan also wasn’t expecting, but that sends his heart soaring in his chest. “If you guys ever need anything….” Steve uses his thumb to point to himself as he turns to Jonathan to show how serious he was. “I’m not that far away.”

“I know,” Jonathan says, and before either of them can say anything else, the kids hustle down the stairs screaming about a movie.

Steve and Jonathan scoot apart. 

===

_23 days before Christmas; 24 days before Hanukkah_

Steve has never been to the Hawkins Library, but Dustin practically holds his hand through the process of finding and selecting a book to read. Steve wants to learn more about Hanukkah, and a children’s book seemed like the best way to understand it all. It takes him only half an hour to read it - a personal record, Steve thinks - and while he’s not still completely sure what Jonathan does to celebrate, he’s at least got a better idea. 

Steve thinks of maybe buying Jonathan a hand-made menorah, but the price is well over twenty dollars. Then he considers getting them candles _for_ the menorah, but figures they probably already have that covered. Robin seconds this.

“Just get him a vinyl or a walkman or something,” she says, laying on the floor of Family Video. 

“Yeah, maybe.”

“If I didn’t know any better,” she starts, sitting up slowly, “I would say you’re trying to… _impress_ him.”

Steve stutters. “What? No. No. No way. I - I - I just like getting good presents. I think - I _know_ I’m really, really good at it.” 

Robin narrows her eyes at him before sighing. “Steve. I see how you stare at him.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing,” Robin says, sighing again. “It means nothing, Steve.”

About an hour later, a miracle happens - Jonathan comes to the store.

Jonathan Byers has never set foot into Family Video, and he treads lightly as he enters. Steve almost trips over himself when he sees Jonathan walk in, another pretty sweater on his slim frame. 

“Can I help you?” he asks, approaching Jonathan, who stays relatively close to the door. 

“I need to get Will something?” It’s more of a question than a statement. “He wants to watch a movie tonight.”

“Oh, I know the perfect thing!”

Jonathan watches Steve jog the short distance to the register and jog back. Jonathan wonders if he always runs around him to impress him, but he pushes that thought out of his head. Steve presents him with a VHS box with David Bowie on it - _Labyrinth._

“Bowie?” Jonathan asks. 

“Apparently,” Steve answers. “Will said he wanted to watch it, and Keith _finally_ ordered it. You like Bowie, too, right?”

Jonathan’s brows twitch and he smiles a bit, that swelling feeling once again apparent in his chest. “You remembered what Will wanted to see?”

“‘Course.” Steve puts his hands in his back pockets. “I was holding it for him.”

Will was the most important person to Jonathan Byers. He would very easily trade his life with his brother if he could. He would do anything to make him safe and comfortable and happy. And Jonathan never really saw Steve as someone who would care about his little brother in such a way that he saved a _tape_ for him. Which, yeah, maybe the bar is low, but Jonathan’s known for a while now that Steve Harrington has a knack for defying all expectations.

“It’s free,” Steve says, Jonathan shocked into silence. “Just take it. Let me know how it is.”

“Do you want to watch it?”

Steve’s eyes widen before he blinks. “I mean, maybe -”

“Do you want to watch it with us?” Jonathan almost tags on an “as friends”, but Steve’s almost _certainly_ not thinking it’s a date. Steve’s a boy. Jonathan’s a boy. Just friends. 

Steve blinks again, his brain short circuiting - like, _yeah,_ of _course_ he wanted to watch a movie with Jonathan Byers, and _yeah,_ Bowie _did_ look hot in that outfit, and _yeah,_ they’re two men that hardly know each other except on a very deeply personal level that Steve can’t think about without making his head spin. It makes Steve’s head hurt when he thinks about the bond he shares with Jonathan, even though they’d only had approximately seven conversations over four years. He thinks Jonathan looks at him like he has him figured out, and it makes Steve’s stomach turn in excitement and anxiety.

“Tonight?” he finally manages. 

“Yeah.”

Steve licks his lips. “Yeah, man. Yeah! Yeah. I like movies. Yeah, man, I can come over. What time? Want me to bring something?”

“No,” Jonathan says quickly. “Just yourself. Eight?”

“I can do that,” Steve says, not a hint of a joke in his voice. “Eight sounds perfect.”

“Do you remember where I live?”

Although Steve had only ever been at the Byers residence to thwart evil from overtaking the universe, he does remember. He could make the drive with his eyes closed. “I do.”

“Okay. Eight.”

Robin smirks behind the counter.

===

_Later, 9 pm_

Jonathan cannot believe how obvious Steve is about being his Secret Santa.

“Do you listen to Bowie?” he whispers in the middle of the movie. Their knees are touching again.

“Yeah,” Jonathan whispers back.

“Do you, like, have all of his albums?”

Jonathan glances at Steve, then back at the TV. “I do.”

Steve lets out a defeated sigh and Jonathan has to stifle his laugh behind his hand. Will can’t believe how obvious they’re being, either, but he tries to focus on the movie and not the scene happening beside him.

“Do you - like… um. Is there an artist you don’t have… an album… for?”

Steve cringes at himself. 

“I’m set,” Jonathan says, trying to wrack his brain for anything he could give Steve. He feels pity for Steve, who’s just trying his best, but Jonathan isn’t exactly materialistic. He doesn’t even know why he let Will convince him to be part of the exchange. 

Steve lets his eyes wander around, trying to think of anything he could get Jonathan. Maybe a nice blanket, or a sweater. Maybe a David Bowie poster. His eyes wander towards the kitchen window, where he can see a golden candlestick holder.

“Menorah?” he asks Jonathan, gesturing towards it.

“Yeah.” Jonathan looks towards it, too. 

“It’s the twenty-sixth this year, right?”

“What?”

“Hanukkah,” Steve clarifies. “‘Til the third?”

“H- how’d you know that?”

“I looked it up,” he says, matter-of-factly.

“You looked it up?” Jonathan asks quietly. 

“Yeah.” Steve frowns a bit. “Was I not supposed to?”

“Why’d you look it up?”

“So I could know more about what you celebrate.”

“Oh.” Jonathan looks back at the TV. “That. That’s nice of you.” And then he looks back at Steve and with a small smirk says, “We don’t need candles for it.”

“I wasn’t going to ask,” Steve says with a smile, bumping his knee against Jonathan’s. 

They both smile the rest of the movie. 

===

_16 days before Christmas; 17 days before Hanukkah _

Steve takes his headphones off. “I don’t know if I like them.”

Jonathan scoffs and bristles. “What - what don’t you like about Joy Division?”

Jonathan’s bed dips under Steve as he adjusts, his knee and elbow hitting Jonathan’s. “They’re, like, _sad_.”

“That’s the point!”

Steve rolls his eyes slightly, but smiles. “Why do you always want to be sad?”

“I - I don’t - they’re just _good_.”

“I believe you,” Steve says, and he means it. “I mean, what do I know about music?”

“Here,” Jonathan says, leaning forward to grab a Bowie album. “Have you ever listened to Bowie?”

“On the radio.”

Jonathan smiles and puts the tape into the walkman, and Steve puts the headphones back on. He gives Jonathan an apprehensive look as the younger boy clicks through songs, and is pleasantly surprised by the music that comes through. It’s not as sad as Joy Division - not at all. Not whiney, either - it’s victorious and upbeat and Steve can’t help but to move, shimmying in place, leaning sideways to hit Jonathan’s arm with his as he dances. Jonathan smiles and says something, but the headphones block him out. “ _What?!_ ”

Jonathan chuckles and pauses the music. “I said, do you like it?”

“It’s happy!” Steve asserts. “You should listen to this stuff more often.”

“I _do_ listen to it.”

“More. _Often_ ,” Steve enunciates, and then presses play on the walkman, his hand brushing against Jonathan’s. 

Jonathan realizes how much he likes Steve being happy. He always knew it, but he didn’t know how _much_ he liked it. Steve moves like he owns the world, like he’s not ashamed or afraid of anything. And Jonathan knows how _bullshit_ that is, that Steve, at heart, is a scared and insecure person who needs to love and be loved every moment of the day. Jonathan wishes he could give that to him, but if David Bowie gets Steve close to as happy as Jonathan would like to make him, he’ll take it. 

“Put it in your stereo,” Steve says suddenly, pausing the music. “We should both listen to it, shouldn’t we?”

Jonathan shrugs a shoulder and takes the tape from the walkman, slipping it into the stereo and playing it. They both jump at the volume before Jonathan turns it down, and then they sit together, listening to _Heroes_ until it fades out. 

“Like us,” Steve says. “Heroes.”

“Yeah,” Jonathan says. “I guess.” Jonathan chews his lip for a moment before pausing the tape. “You saved my life.”

“What?”

“When the….” Jonathan can’t say it. “With the bat.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Steve looks at his hands and then smiles. “After you saved mine by beating the shit out of me.” Jonathan stiffens, and Steve sighs. “I know I said it before, but I’m sorry, Jonathan. I’m… God. I’m so sorry."

“It’s fine,” Jonathan says, voice a bit cooler. “It’s in the past.”

“You did save my life, though,” Steve says after a pause. “Seriously. If you didn’t beat sense into my brain….”

“You mean a concussion?”

“ _Sense_ ,” Steve repeats. “If it wasn’t for you….”

“I know.”

It’s all that needs said. 

“Another?” Steve asks. 

“Really?”

“I like listening,” Steve says. 

Jonathan suppresses another smile as he leans forward and turns the tape on again. Their arms are touching. 

===

_10 days before Christmas; 11 days before Hanukkah_

“Just get him a new walkman,” Dustin says, tone bored, as Steve drags him through the biggest mall within an hour from Hawkins. 

“It’s not good enough!” 

Steve is exasperated, and desperate. He’d been spending way more time with Jonathan, and kept asking questions - he’s 90% sure Jonathan is on to him at this point - and he was still unsure of what to get him. Each day that passed made Steve more desperate to give Jonathan something that would make him happy, and a twenty dollar budget was just not enough for Steve. And though he feels like he knows Jonathan more than most people, he doesn’t quite _understand_ Jonathan. And he wants to. He wants to so badly. 

“ _Jesus_ , o- _kay_ ,” Dustin says, throwing his arms out. 

“I’m not - I’m not mad at you.” Steve sighs and runs his hand through his hair as he stares at a sweater displayed in a window. “I just - I don’t know what to get him.”

Dustin knows why, but he still asks, “Why do you care so much?”

“I don’t! I don’t. I don’t _care_ that much.”

Dustin sees through the bullshit, but he doesn’t think a mall is the best place to talk to Steve about his feelings. “I just got Mike a new dice set. It’s not the best gift, but he’ll like it.”

“Well, I’m not _lazy.”_

Dustin pouts. “I’m not lazy -”

“And you’re not supposed to tell me who your person is -”

“You told me yours!” Dustin already knew Steve’s, but the point still stood. 

Steve’s brows twitch in agitation. “Well, _yeah,_ because I need help!”

“And I _am_ helping you. Get him a damn walkman.”

As Steve contemplates the idea, a new one pops into his head. 

“ _Perfect!”_ he shouts, making everyone stop to look at him. Dustin inclines his head, trying to get Steve to elaborate. 

“We have to go to the music store. Now.”

===

_3 days before Christmas, 4 days before Hanukkah_

It’s official - Steve hates Joy Division. Not as much as he hates the Smiths, but he definitely hates it. 

His ears hurt after listening to Jonathan’s favorite music, hand selecting the songs with the lyrics that Steve thought best exemplified Jonathan. In a way, the music helped Steve understand Jonathan, which was a happy surprise. And, quite honestly, Steve doesn’t mind listening to the music, because he knows it would make Jonathan happy, and that’s mainly what he cares about. 

But something seems missing. Maybe it’s because no gift on Earth would be good enough for Steve to give to Jonathan. Jonathan deserved the world, deserved much better than what he was dealt. So did the rest of his family. Steve knows if he gave Jonathan anything worth anything, though, he wouldn’t take it. And if he did take it, he would share it - and Steve wanted to get him something that was purely for Jonathan. Maybe a mixtape was the perfect gift, but it didn’t feel like it. Something was missing. 

Not that Steve had much time to contemplate another gift, because the exchange was happening tonight, and Steve couldn’t even write a two page paper in six hours, let alone find a better gift.

_There’s always next year,_ he thinks as he’s wrapping it. _Or his birthday. Or…._

The wrapping paper his mom had purchased was patterned with bright green mistletoe, plum colored berries hanging from the leaves. Steve’s eyes focus on it for a while - intimacy was something that he missed. The closest he’d gotten in a year was his skin pushed up against Jonathan’s, knees and biceps touching. It made him yearn, and not for just anyone, but for him. For Jonathan. 

But Steve doesn’t know how Jonathan feels. Yeah, they touch each other a lot, but maybe that’s just what friends do. Steve wouldn’t know. Jonathan’s eyes had lingered on Steve’s face before, and when they were smoking Jonathan didn’t even wince when Steve passed the joint to him. Isn’t that _kind of_ like kissing? Steve doesn’t know. He just knows he wants to kiss Jonathan. He’s known for a while, and Robin told him after Steve cried to her one night that maybe he’s bisexual, and Steve had adopted that term because he wants to kiss Jonathan Byers _so bad_. And a kiss would be a personal, for-Jonathan-Byers-only gift. 

A kiss, though, seems very straightforward. It doesn’t seem like a great idea. Maybe back in high school when Steve would kiss just about anyone, but not now. Not when he doesn’t even know if Jonathan swings that way. 

So Steve finishes wrapping the tape, and he prints _Jonathan_ on it in the best handwriting he can muster, and he hopes Jonathan understands through the lyrics. 

===

_Later, 8 pm_

“It’s got, like, you know.” Steve clears his throat. He’s too aware of the mistletoe above them. “The bands we listened to on it.”

“Steve,” Jonathan says, turning the tape over in his hands. His brows are furrowed together as he studies it, wondering what’s on the tape, wondering what Steve thought was _intrinsically_ Jonathan Byers. It was such a personal gift that Jonathan didn’t even know what to do or say. “I…. Thanks. Thank you, Steve.”

Max grabs another gift from under the tree. “This one’s for Mike.” She chucks it at him and everyone’s eyes seem to turn to Mike, except for Will and Steve. 

Their eyes meet, and Will gives Steve a look he doesn’t understand. 

_What?_ He mouths. 

Will’s eyes flit up to the mistletoe, then back down to Steve and Jonathan. He repeats this a few times until Steve almost gasps at the suggestion. Does Will know something Steve doesn’t?

Steve nods his head as subtly as he can towards Jonathan. _Him?_

Will nods furiously, then looks back to Mike, who seems quite pleased with the dice Dustin had bought him. But Steve doesn’t get it, and when the presents are done, he pulls Will aside. 

“What the hell?” he hisses. “What - what does that -” he mimics Will’s eye movements - “mean?”

Will rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. “C’mon.”

“What?”

“Come _on,”_ he repeats. He gets quiet, and Steve can see Joyce in Will. “He _likes_ you.”

“What? Did he say something to you?

“Steve. You touch each other, like, all the time.”

Steve deflates. “So he didn’t say something?”

“He doesn’t _need_ to. Why do you think I convinced him to do this?” 

Steve knows he’s saying “what?” too many times, but he says it again. “What?”

“We all _planned_ this. We paired you two together on purpose.” And then he walks away because he’s tired of hearing about everyone’s love lives. This isn’t his problem. He just wants to play with Mike’s new dice.

When Steve looks towards the kids, they’re all staring. They quickly start talking to each other again, and Steve lets himself sit with the realization that these bunch of punks just pulled the most amazing Christmas hijink of perhaps all time. 

_Shitheads,_ Steve thinks, and while he’s definitely going to confront (and thank) them later, he’s got to talk to Jonathan first. 

===

_Later, 9 pm_

“I knew it was you, you know.”

It’s cold outside, but it’s the best privacy they could get. 

“How?” Steve asks, though he already knows.

“You’re not very conniving,” Jonathan says, once again suppressing a smile. “It was pretty obvious.”

“I just wanted to get you something you’d like,” Steve says. He breathes out and watches his breath disappear into the cold air. “You’re impossible to shop for, you know.”

Jonathan has the audacity to seem offended. “What?”

“Impossible,” Steve says, stepping forward. “You’re not a materialistic person.”

“So?”

“So,” Steve says. “So.” He can feel his heart in his throat, beating loud and fast - he hopes Jonathan can’t hear it. “So….”

And then they’re kissing under the mistletoe that Mrs. Wheeler hung on the porch. 

Steve pulls back first, quick, surprised with himself. “Shit.”

Jonathan says nothing - he just stares. 

“Can I kiss you?” Steve asks, throat dry. 

“Didn’t you just kiss me?”

“Um. Yeah.”

Jonathan blinks. “Then do it again.”

And this time Steve really steps forward, really takes Jonathan’s cold cheeks in his cold hands, and he _really_ kisses him. Jonathan _finally_ lets that smile come through for the first time in a month as he melts into Steve, like a snowflake into a snowbank. Steve’s warm - well, warmer than the air - and he tastes a lot like vanilla birthday cake. Jonathan’s never really liked cake, but he likes Steve’s lips. _Weird._

Jonathan pulls back first this time, because it was getting increasingly harder to kiss as his smile grew. He even tries to hide it behind his hand again, but Steve stops him, taking his cold fingers and wrapping his own through them. 

“ _Impossible_ to shop for,” Steve repeats, his own smile hurting his cheeks. “Good thing kisses are free _and_ personal.”

A laugh bubbles up from Jonathan’s chest and to his lips. “Yeah.” He squeezes Steve’s hand. Their chests are touching. “Good thing.”


	4. the baker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve helps the kids bake and make gingerbread houses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> simply a cute fic! no pairings, just general fun w the Party <3

“I thought you guys were helping?”

Steve was covered in flour. It was in his hair and caked onto his sweater. Under his fingernails. In his mouth. Meanwhile, the entirety of the party that was currently in his kitchen were in pristine condition, save for Max constantly pinching Mike when he wasn’t looking. 

“We _are_ helping,” Lucas declares. “Moral support. That’s us.”

“You said you wanted to make these from scratch,” Steve says, hands on his hips as he glares at the kids. “I could have just gotten a damn box from the store.”

“We don’t know what to do,” Max says. 

“I could teach you!”

“Guys, guys, guys,” Dustin says, pushing up off the kitchen floor to stand by Steve. He grabs a dish towel from a drawer and hands it to the taller boy, who runs it over his face. “We really _should_ help."

“I will,” El says, unraveling her hand from Mike’s and standing up. 

“Anyone else?” Dustin asks.

No one moves. 

“Go watch a movie,” Steve says to the rest. “Get the hell out of my kitchen.”

Mumbling, the rest of the kids vacate, leaving Steve, El, and Dustin in the kitchen. 

“Thanks,” Steve says as he sits the dish towel on the counter. “It’s kind of a lot to make this much gingerbread.”

“What is ginger bread?” El asks.

“You’ve never….?” And then Steve remembers that El grew up in a lab. “It’s, like, a spicy, warm cookie. It’s good. Here -” Steve grabs the spices from their rack and opens up the ground ginger. “Smell - gentle, or it’ll burn."

El leans forward to sniff, and then recoils, coughing slightly. “Ew.”

“It’s good,” Dustin pipes up. “Promise. And we’re going to make houses with them!”

“Cookie house?”

Steve points to the illustration of a gingerbread house in his cookbook. “Like that. Boys versus girls - so you and Max versus the idiots.”

“Hey,” Dustin says, “we aren’t idiots!”

“Okay,” Steve says, wiping his hands once again on the dish towel. “We have to be quick, because the dough has to chill for three hours.”

Dustin takes his hat off and throws it to the floor. “Three hours!”

“Yes, and _then_ we bake, and _then_ we cool, and _then_ we build.”

“This is bullshit,” Dustin mumbles.

“Yeah, bullshit,” El repeats, and Steve gently elbows her.

“Language.”

“But you -!”

Steve smiles at her. “Wash your hands and we’ll start.”

===

“Okay, here are the gumdrops - and this is the icing -”

“Store bought?” Mike looks disgusted.

Steve narrows his eyes. “Yes, store bought, _dipshit_.”

“Language,” El says. Steve elbows her gently again. 

“Two houses, one hour. Best one wins.”

“One hour?” Lucas cries out, while Will frowns beside him.

“It’s already six -” Steve starts, but Mike cuts him off. 

“Yeah, because your baking took so long.”

Steve whips towards him. “Okay. Five point deduction from your team for being a smartass.”

“That’s not fair!”

“Yes it is,” Max says, and the kids start arguing before Steve claps his hands together.

“Hour starts now!”

He collapses on the couch as the kids start their work and closes his eyes, just for a second. He’s pretty exhausted from standing in the kitchen all day, but it was worth it. He was covered in dough and smelled like molasses, but it was worth it. Seeing how happy the kids were was worth more than anything to Steve. Giving them something to be happy about, after all the hell they’ve been through, was so worth it. 

But he’d be lying if he wasn’t happy to rest for an hour. 

Until El tugs on his shirt. 

Steve opens one eye. “Are the boys sabotaging you?”

“Will you be on our team?”

Steve’s brows furrow. “But I’m the judge.”

“Conflict of interest!” Will shouts over his shoulder. 

“Please,” El says, tugging on his shirt one more time. 

Steve pauses before sighing and standing, smiling as El’s own spreads across her face. “C’mon. We’ll beat them.”

“That’s not fair!” Mike says. “Who’s going to judge now?”

“Who cares?” Max asks, which draws more lashback.

“Hey! _Hey!_ ” Steve claps his hands again. “I’ll call Nance or Jonathan to come judge, okay? Clock’s still ticking, let’s _move._ ”

El smiles at him and pats the seat next to her. Steve sits, and Max smiles at him, too. “So we were thinking, like, a really pretty Christmas castle for kittens.”

At first, Steve forces a smile as he helps, but he starts getting _really_ into it. Because he wanted Max and El to win, and _he_ wanted to win, and Mike kept calling him a cheater, and Steve’s hair now had icing _and_ flour in it. But, mostly, Steve liked helping Max and El, liked making them laugh and grimace and roll their eyes. They deserved to have fun and be carefree, and Steve was honored to be part of the good things in their lives, not just the bad. 

“Five minutes left!” Steve shouts. “And we’re kicking your ass!”

The kitten castle didn’t look too bad, if Steve could say so himself. They’d managed to stack the gingerbread pieces into a bit of a fortress, and Steve used some leftover dough to make a cat. Max and El wanted a moat, but Steve insisted they didn’t have time, and that the ‘architectural integrity of the structure’ needed more attention.

“That’s a big phrase for you,” Mike says. 

“Eat shit.”

When time was up, both teams stepped back to admire their creations. The boys had also attempted a castle - which Dustin _swears_ the girls copied - but they hadn’t used enough icing, and the walls were starting to slide. 

“No one needs to judge,” Steve says, matter-of-factly. “We won.”

“Bullshit!” Lucas cries.

“Yours can’t even stand up!”

Will scoffs. “That’s not true, it’s still -”

Steve stomps his foot and a gingerbread wall slides, effectively ruining their creation. Smugly, Steve says, “We won.”

“Son of a bitch!” Dustin shouts, and Will holds him back from pouncing. 

“Who cares?” Max says again, although she’s beaming brightly. “The best part is that we can eat it now.”

This calms everyone, a moment of peace overtaking the group as they broke off pieces of their castles. El snaps off a tiny piece and Steve watches her nibble it gently, brows furrowed. 

“Good?” he asks. 

She takes a moment before nodding. “Good.” She turns to Steve and gives him a thumbs up, which he returns, never having felt more proud of his baking than in this moment. 

Max hands Steve a piece. “Thanks, Steve.”

Steve smiles as he bites a piece off, looking at the kids, happy and safe in his kitchen. Steve never had a perfect Christmas, but this seemed as perfect as one could be. 


	5. noel nancy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stancy. Steve and Nancy spend their first Christmas together after the events of S1.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is hardly even stancy, it's more of a character study into Steve's relationship with Christmas and his love for Nancy and his feelings about Barb ... so if u don't ship it you can still enjoy! xox <3

Steve wasn’t used to second chances. His parents gave up on him the first time he snuck out to try cigarettes with Tommy; his teachers gave up on him at the first signs of difficulty; his other girlfriends gave up on him the first time he let down his cool exterior. Because, really, Steve was a kid. As much as he felt like a grown up, he wasn’t. He was a kid who handled his life poorly, and if it wasn’t for Nancy Wheeler, he never would have handled it  _ well _ . 

So when Nancy gave him a second chance, a month after…  _ Everything,  _ he was quick to jump on it and be on his very best behavior. Jonathan Byers’ fist knocked some sense into him, too, and that’s precisely why Steve went to the store and bought the best camera that the salesman had. He owed them both his life - like,  _ literally,  _ and they probably owed him theirs, but he wouldn’t take it. He just wanted them happy and safe and peaceful for Christmas. 

“ _ Steve _ .” Nancy looked bewildered when Steve showed her the camera, unwrapped, as he didn’t really know how to wrap anything. “He’ll love it.” Her hand touched his and it was warm, and Steve swore he felt the heat creep up his entire arm. He never wanted her to let go. Not again. 

“‘s whatever,” he said, a bit bashfully, but his smile was growing. “I owe him at  _ least _ this much.”

“You’re sweet,” Nancy said, leaning forward and kissing his cheek softly, and Steve melted into her eagerly. He didn’t think he really deserved to be called sweet, not yet, but he still takes her hand and squeezes it. 

“Help me wrap it?” he asked. 

“You don’t know how?”

“I can’t be good at  _ everything, _ ” he teased, and she hit his chest gently with her free hand before standing. 

“I’ll be right back.” Nancy knew she had to promise this. She could see that fear and apprehension and remorse in his eyes every time she went to step away, like she wouldn’t be back. 

And she almost wasn’t. 

Steve pressed a kiss to her palm before letting her run downstairs to grab the paper. When her frame left the doorway, he let his eyes roam around her room, something he’d done before, but not since Everything. He sees pictures of Nance when she was younger, in a ballerina costume. On a school field trip to the zoo. Pictures of Ted holding her when she was just as big as Holly was then. Her and Mike dressed up like - well, Steve doesn’t know what they’re dressed up as, but they’re having fun. 

And then he sees the pictures of Barb and Nance. How happy they were. Their faces smushed together in a photobooth, at each other’s birthday parties - the room was littered with Barb and little reminders of her. Steve checked on Nancy every chance he had, even in that month where they’d only stolen looks at each other. He said he was sorry probably a dozen times, each more tearful than the last, because what Nancy didn’t understand was that Steve couldn’t even look at his pool without feeling like he was going to vomit. He couldn’t lay in his bed at night and sleep. He thought about Barb, about how she cut her hand when they tried to make her do something stupid, about how scared and alone and sad she must have been. How he  _ stole _ Nancy from her. 

Barb Holland  _ probably _ hated him more in death than she did in life. 

_ It wasn’t supposed to be a competition, _ Steve promised her. He had a lot of talks with her at night.  _ I just didn’t want to share the glory that is Nancy Wheeler. I’m sure you understand.  _

“Found some.” Nancy’s voice broke Steve from his melancholy staring, and he quickly blinked some tears out of his eyes. She sat at her desk with the camera and Steve watched her wrap the box, watched her little fingers fold and tape the paper. “He’ll be here to pick up Will later.”

Steve cleared his throat. “Will you give it to him?”

Nancy looked at him with furrowed brows. “Me?”

“I just….” Steve paused. “I don’t want him to think he… like, owes me something. Or that I’m trying to buy his forgiveness.”

“He won’t,” Nancy promised, but Steve shook his head. 

“Please? Just say it’s from you.”

Nancy frowned and stood, walking to Steve at the end of her bed. She cupped his face and kissed his lips, softly, before pulling back. Steve smirked, gently grabbing her wrists in his hands. “Guess I should be selfless more often, huh?”

“You  _ are _ selfless,” Nancy said, staring into his eyes. Steve loved it when Nancy looked at him like that. “And you’re brave.”

But Steve didn’t feel like it. 

===

To be honest, Steve never had a great Christmas. Sometimes his cousins and extended family would stop by for Christmas, and that could be fun. But his aunts and uncles didn’t like their kids hanging out with Steve, because he was a “bad influence,” which just meant  _ sometimes _ Steve would get too carried away during snowball fights and, yeah, he hit Brent in the face with one but it’s not like he lost an  _ eye _ or anything. Christmas with his mom and dad was impersonal. He would get new things that he didn’t really like - as in, ten new polos and five new khakis, all from expensive retailers - and he would thank them before going up to his room until dinner. Christmas dinner was the worst - it was silent save for forks scraping and mouths chewing, and Steve was pretty sure that when he goes to hell he will be perpetually sitting at the dinner table on December 25th. 

But Christmas with Nancy was different. 

It wasn’t that Steve didn’t like talking to Ted about sports, or telling Karen about his mom’s new business ventures, or acting like an asshole to Mike just to get a ruse from him, or playing with Holly. He loved it. But that wasn’t the  _ best _ part. The best part was that Nancy, in her pretty yellow sweater, was glued to his side, and was smiling, and was squeezing his hand, and was rolling her eyes and laughing at him. It wasn’t even that much, but it was the closest to an actual Christmas that Steve had ever had. Closest to Christmas that Steve had ever felt. He could even stand Ted’s after-dinner snoring as he held Nancy on the couch, absent-mindedly watching a movie. He was more concerned with her warm body pressed against his.

A month was a long time without Nancy Wheeler. 

The front door opened. Karen cried out, “Jonathan!”, and Steve looked to Nancy anxiously. As Jonathan slipped downstairs, Nancy snuck up to her room, leaving Steve alone with a snoring Ted. 

Steve was used to being alone, now. Or, well, he should have been. A month without talking to Carol and Tommy was like a well-needed detox without the withdrawals. Still, he missed them - but only sometimes. The thoughts were usually quickly stifled when Steve remembers how Tommy made him pay for a can of coke and some Advil after getting his shit rocked.  _ Some friends.  _ And while Nancy was (thankfully) back in his life, he still felt alone sometimes. Which scared him. He hadn’t felt this alone in a long time, always forcing himself to socialize to avoid being in an empty and cold house. Nancy meant more to him then he knew - not only was he thankful to have her back and be given another chance, but she also got him out of that house. 

Nancy, Jonathan, and Will met at the bottom of the steps. Steve couldn’t really see, but he could  _ kind of _ hear the exchange. His heart hammered in his chest - what if he didn’t like it? What if it was a shitty camera? What if Jonathan finds out he was the one that got it for him? But Nancy came back with an absent-minded grin and Steve smiled wide, relief flowing through him just at the sight of her. She sat beside him and he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her in close. He looked down at her in pure adoration - Nancy Wheeler was the most beautiful, intelligent, thoughtful, and badass person he’d ever met, and she was, somehow, his. 

“Did you give it to him?”

Nancy looked up at him and nodded, still smiling a bit. “Yeah.”

Steve rubbed her arm and looked up at the television, suddenly overwhelmed with something. Something good and all consuming and wholesome. He hadn’t felt this good… ever. It was like something was set free in his chest, something that had never quite yet been released before. He looked back down at Nancy, her eyes focused on the television, her body pressed up against his. 

He wants to say it.  _ I love you.  _ It’s on the tip of his tongue. 

Instead, he presses a kiss to her hair. “Merry Christmas.”

Nancy looked up at him and smiled softly. “Merry Christmas.”

Beside them, Ted snored. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve helps El wrap gifts for the Party and, in turn, gets his nails painted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is just cute cute cute babysitter bonding time !!! this takes place after s2. I have wanted to write this concept forever and I am so happy I got to!! hope u all enjoy!

Steve had a knack for falling asleep at Hopper’s kitchen table, even though it was uncomfortable and hard on his head. But he consistently did it - which probably made him a bad babysitter, but El promised she wouldn’t say anything, and she hadn’t so far. Mike never said anything, either, but that was probably because he was thankful to be able to walk into the cabin without getting hounded and glared at. 

Tonight, though, it was just him and El. El had been coloring when he fell asleep, but when she poked his cheek to wake him up, she was holding a roll of wrapping paper. 

Steve grimaced and sat up, stretching. “Hey, kid.”

“Help.”

“With?”

She raised the wrapping paper more. “Presents.”

Steve’s brows furrow tiredly. “El, I don’t - I’m not really good at it.”

“Better than me,” she says, and Steve figures she’s probably right.

They clear the kitchen table and El brings out her gifts. She grabs tape and scissors for Steve, who rubs his hands over his face in exhaustion. He hadn’t been sleeping much, what with the crippling loneliness and depression, but being with El helped. It made him feel worthwhile and useful. Plus, El was kind of funny, and she seemed to like him alright, which made Steve feel good. El never, like, made him piss himself or something, so that’s probably a good sign. 

Steve picks up a bandana, a forest green color and riddled with white accents. “Who’s this for?”

“Lucas.”

Steve stares at it. “Okay. Do you have a box?”

El shakes her head and rests it on the table across from him.

Steve rubs his face again. “Alright.”

Wrapping a piece of cloth is pretty difficult, but Steve doesn’t think the finished product looked too bad. He wrapped the paper around the fabric and twisted the ends of the gift wrap to make it look like a piece of candy. El nods in satisfaction at the finished product, writes _To Lucas, From El_ on it, and gently places it on the floor. Steve picks up the next gift - a big pack of colored pencils. 

“Who?”

“Will.”

Steve nods and wraps it much better this time, since the pencils were already in a box. 

“What did you get me?” he teases, glancing up at her as he rips some tape off, smoothing it onto the gold and red gift wrap.

“I can’t tell you.”

Steve deflates. “You didn’t really, did you?”

El’s face kind of flushes and she puts her head in her hands, her palms covering up the pink. “You’ll see. Soon.”

Steve thinks it would be really funny if El makes him wrap his own gift, but by the time everything is done, he hasn’t seen anything. He wonders if maybe she had the foresight to know not to do that, but then El runs to her room and comes back with a bottle of nail polish. It’s pink and iridescent, little gold flecks sparkled throughout. 

Steve doesn’t even think about it. “You want me to paint your nails?”

“No,” she says, quietly. “I want to paint yours.”

Steve’s taken aback. His brows furrow again and he blinks. “You want to paint mine?”

El nods. Steve pauses. 

“Is this my Christmas gift?”

El nods again.

Steve smiles. “This isn’t _my_ Christmas gift. This is, like, a bonus gift for yourself.”

El smiles back and slides into the seat across from him. “Can I?”

Steve, still smiling, bites the inside of his cheek before offering her his hands. “Make ‘em pretty.”

El examines his nails first. She looks at each nail carefully, flipping Steve’s hands over, before resting them on the table. Steve watches her with a small smile on his face. El grabs the bottle and opens it, but Steve clears his throat. “You aren’t gonna cut them or anything?”

“They’re okay,” she says, picking up Steve’s index finger. 

“This isn’t salon quality service.”

El looks up and scrunches her nose at him before going back to her work. She paints delicately, taking her time with each stroke. Steve’s got big nail beds, so it takes about three strokes per nail, but neither of them mind. It’s kind of relaxing, the brush tickling his cuticles, the silence between them. El’s tongue sticks out of the corner of her mouth as she concentrates. She doesn’t mess up, not even once.

“Do I have pretty nails?” Steve asks. 

“Mike says you’re very girly,” she answers, still concentrating. 

Steve scoffs. “Wh - what?”

“He says you have girl… features?”

Steve rolls his eyes and huffs a bit, but it’s not like he can _dispute_ that. Hell, sometimes he would let Nancy do his makeup, and he loved it more than anything. Not that he would tell anyone that.

“Whatever,” he says.

“I think they’re pretty,” El says. She lifts both of Steve’s hands and looks at them closely, then nods. “Done.”

Steve retracts his hands and looks. They’re not really that bad. It’s not messy - El was so meticulous that the polish stayed on his nails - and it’s kind of cute. Steve likes the subtle shimmer. It’s like his nails, but better. 

“Do you like it?” El sounds scared, like Steve would ever say no, even if it were true. 

“I really do,” he says, and he means it. “I’m gonna be a trendsetter thanks to you.”

“Trend setter?”

“Everyone’ll have painted nails because of me.” El smiles and looks down at the table. Steve grabs the nail polish. “Want to match?”

She nods and gives him her hands. Steve looks at them carefully, then uncaps the nail polish. He’s never done this before, but it’s not _that_ hard - except that El’s got small nails because she’s, like, thirteen, and Steve doesn’t know how to be clean about it. But El doesn’t seem to mind, so Steve keeps going.

“Messy,” she says, wrinkling her nose. 

“ _Hey_ ,” he says, faking an angry tone. “Keep it up and I’ll eat all the Eggos.”

El frowns. 

“I’m _kidding,_ ” he says. “I can’t eat Eggos. I have to stay fit.”

“For who?”

Steve looks up at her, and he can’t help but to smile. “You’re such a little shit, you know that? Must get it from Mike.” El shrugs, and Steve finishes up the last nail. “You’re my favorite little shit, but don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t,” she promises. 

“Once these dry, you should go to bed,” Steve says, glancing at the clock behind her. “Hop’ll kill me if you’re still up after midnight.”

El frowns, but she knows not to push it. When her nails are dry, she grabs her presents and takes them to her room. Steve thinks she’s getting ready for bed, but she pokes her head out of her door. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

A pause. “Thank you.”

“Oh.” Steve blinks. “You’re welcome. Sleep tight, El.”

She nods and closes the door. Steve looks down at his nails and smiles - maybe this _was_ his Christmas present. He likes it. Maybe he should get El a set of good nail polishes to play with, and she can keep practicing on him. Steve doesn’t want her to have no ambitions like he did - he wants her to keep up with it. Maybe she could be a stylist and cut his hair one day. Whatever it is, he hopes she’s happy.

Steve rests his head on the table and falls asleep again. 


	7. stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve thinks it’s too cold for Reader to go home, and they agree. Tipsy shenanigans ensue. It's smut!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve x Reader
> 
> hi! please heed the smut warning! it is gentle and cute and I hope u like it!

“Steve, I have to _go._ ”

“One more,” he says, pulling you into him and kissing you again. He tastes like the wine you’d spent the last few hours sharing. He pulls back and smiles dopily. “Okay, wait, one more -“

“ _Steve_ ,” you say again, pulling away from him, cheeks flushed. “It’s late and there’s going to be snow. I need to leave before I get snowed in.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he says, watching you grab your coat. “Is it so bad to have to spend a night with your boyfriend?”

You roll your eyes. “I don’t have any pajamas.”

“You don’t need any.”

You throw a glove at him. “Perv.”

“Got me.”

You lace up your boots and turn to face him. Steve’s smiling sadly - he always gets like this, tipsy or not. Never wants you to go, ever. He understands you need space sometimes - and so does he - but, god, does he miss you when you’re gone. He holds his arms out and you walk into them, burying your head in the crook of his neck. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you promise. “Unless the snow is bad, in which case, I’ll call you.”

“Not good enough,” he pouts. “Just be snowed in with me. It’s too cold for you to leave.” He smiles. “We have booze here!”

You contemplate it for a moment, but you don’t know how long the blizzard will last. You didn’t want to be stuck in the same outfit for days, and even though Steve insists you can wear his clothes, they don’t exactly fit. So you stand on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Next time.”

He scoffs. “Next time? What if it never snows again?”

“You’re so dramatic.”

He shrugs and kisses the top of your head. “ _Fine._ I won’t make you stay.”

“I’ll see you as soon as I can, okay?”

He nods and crosses his arms, watching as you open the front door of his apartment. You move to step outside, but the reality of the weather slaps you in the face. The roads were _covered,_ to the point where they were nonexistent. There had to almost be a half a foot of snow - the sidewalks were covered. And it was freezing, way colder than it was when you arrived in the early afternoon. 

“Holy shit,” you say. 

“Holy shit,” Steve repeats behind you. “Did we make out that long?”

“How did it show this much in eight hours?”

Steve makes an _I don’t know_ noise and snakes his arms around your waist. “Looks like you’re gonna have to stay.”

You shut the door and turn to face him, trying to hide your smile. “You did this.”

“I did,” he says, pulling you inside more and stumbling slightly. “I paid Jack Frost one million dollars to make a blizzard.” He frowns slightly. “Do you want me to drive you home?”

“No way. You can’t drive as is, let alone with snow on the road and wine in your system.” Steve rolls his eyes and you kiss his jaw. “I _guess_ I can spend the night.”

Steve smiles and fiddles with the zipper on your coat. “Take this stupid thing off.”

“Oh, you want to pick right back up, huh?”

“Always,” he says, absentminded, tugging your zipper down. “I think our session got cut… short.” He leans down to kiss under your ear, and you groan. 

“Can you not be horny for five minutes?”

“Never in my life,” he murmurs, pushing the coat off of your shoulders. “Want me to get your boots?”

“I can,” you say, smirking. You turn around and bend down, making Steve groan, as you untie them. 

“It’s not my fault I’m always horny when you do _that._ ”

“What?” you say innocently. Alcohol always left you feeling a little bolder. “I’m just untying my shoes.”

Steve moves to the couch, waiting for you and turning a random channel on to act as ambient noise. The TV plays _How The Grinch Stole Christmas,_ and you scrunch your nose as you come to join him.

“We can’t watch the Grinch while we fuck,” you say. 

Steve reaches out to pull you onto his lap. “Why not? It’s festive, it’s fun, it’s definitely sexy -“

“Steve, you have to find something else!”

He rolls his eyes but grabs the remote and flips until he finds another movie. This time, he settles with _A Christmas Story._

“Not this, either,” you argue. “There’s kids in it.”

“They aren’t _watching_ us!” 

“Well -“

Steve kisses you roughly, which easily shuts you up. He smiles against your lips and murmurs, “That worked.”

You pinch his side and he jumps before kissing you again, pulling you as close to him as possible. He loves feeling your warmth against his chest - being close to you was the happiest he ever felt. He groans when you wrap your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly, just enough to rile him up. His hand ghosts at the hem of your shirt before he slides up to cup your breast. 

You gasp. “Fuck, Steve.”

“You like that?”

“No, you’re freezing.”

Steve laughs loudly. “I can warm it up right here, then.”

“Whatever works,” you say, and sigh when his lips meet your neck, sucking gently at the skin. He flicks his tongue out before sucking again and moving down, placing careful kisses where he knows you like it. You grind down on him and he moans, bucking his hips up to make you moan. 

“You sound so pretty,” he says, gently moving his fingers over your chest. “Look pretty, too.”

“So do you.” You tug at his hair again and he moans once more. “So pretty, Stevie.”

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” he says, moving his hand from under your shirt and tugging on it. “Can I see you?”

“You mean _the girls?”_

“Hell yeah,” he breathes, and helps you move your sweater off. 

He’s seen you countless times like this, but the sight always makes his breath hitch. All of you was beautiful - the softness, the squishiness, the curves. You were so soft to touch - and Steve moves his fingertips over your skin, admiring that fact. He smiles when you moan, bucking against him. His hands move to your bra, but just to tease you, not to take it off. 

“You were _so_ eager earlier,” you whisper. “And now you want to stall?”

“Not stalling,” he whispers back, eyes tracing over your body. “Just admiring.”

You blush and bite your lip as his fingers move to the band of your bra, unclasping it. He sits the bra aside and stares again, biting his lip too, before reaching out to touch you. You grind on him again as he pinches and squeezes, trying to get him to do more. 

“Hey,” he says suddenly, looking up at you. “I want to take my time, okay? Show you how much I love you.”

You smile and run a hand through his hair before moving to grip his shoulders. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he says, smiling, and then leans forward to kiss along your chest. You groan but stay still for him, trying to be patient as he works on you slowly. It’s kind of torture - you’d been fooling around all day just to be teased again. But Steve’s look of pure adoration makes the wait worth it. 

“Steve,” you moan, his lips meeting one of your nipples. 

“What?” he asks, pulling back and smirking. 

“Don’t be a dick.”

“Maybe if you asked nicely….”

You roll your eyes. “Steve. Play with my tits.”

“Please?”

“ _Please.”_

“You’re so polite,” he jokes, then leans forward again to suck a nipple into his mouth. Your hips buck and he moves a hand down to gently grab your waist, steadying you. You dig your fingers into his shoulders as he continues, rolling his tongue over you before sucking again, nipping gently to make you squirm. His grip on your hip becomes harder the more he gets into it, and he’s soon letting out little moans of his own. 

“M-more,” you moan, grinding on him. “Please.”

Steve smiles and kisses up your neck again, once more sucking on the sensitive skin there. Frustrated, you grip his hair and tug his head back before littering his neck with kisses, flicking your tongue out just as he was with you. Steve groans and bucks his hips, mouth falling open at the feeling. 

“Such pretty sounds, Stevie,” you mock, whispering into his ear. “I think _you_ have too many clothes on.”

“Up,” he breathes, and you roll off of him, working to unbutton your pants as he rips his own clothes off. He sits, and you slide off the couch and onto your knees, smirking as you place yourself in front of him. He’s already hard, tip pink and leaking, and he looks lost for words as you look up at him. 

“Someone’s excited.”

“I… yeah,” he says, staring at you with blown pupils. 

“Don’t watch the TV,” you say, and he shakes his head fervently. 

“No way,” he promises. 

You kiss the inside of his thigh gently, trying to hold back a smile as he already starts squirming above you. You alternate thighs with each kiss, moving slow and gentle, flicking your tongue out to make him huff. You kiss at the base of his cock, then up, finally licking at his tip. He groans and throws his head back, but you pinch him gently. “Eyes on me, sweetheart.”

“Trying,” he pants, looking back at you. “You’re too hot.”

“I know,” you tease. 

“Maybe….” he trails off as you lick his tip again, but you stop. 

“No, say it.”

Steve bites the inside of his cheek to keep the laugh from bubbling out. “Maybe you could, like, melt the snow.”

“Steve, shut _up,”_ you laugh. “I’m trying to blow you and this is what you give me?”

“You should know how I act by now,” he says, and then gasps when you wrap your lips around his head. 

Steve is never quiet. Ever. But he’s especially never quiet during sex. Whether that’s talking, or moaning, or just babbling, he can’t shut up. Add alcohol and he’s a blabbering mess. You listen as he groans and swears above you, taking him in more and more with each bob of your head. You move your hand to his base and move your head in tandem as you pump him. 

“Oh, fuck, yes, like that, good -“

“You taste so good,” you moan, moving to kiss his tummy before taking him into your mouth again. 

“O-oh, oh, _Jesus,”_ he breathes. “Keep - please - talking -“

You move off of him, continuing your movements with your hand. “You’re so handsome, babe, just look how pretty this cock is.”

“Yes,” he moans, reaching his hand down to tangle in your hair. 

Your cheeks redden before you say, “You want me to fuck myself on it?”

Steve moans loudly and pulls you up suddenly, laying you on the couch. He moves to the end of it, trying to face your wet core, but his legs dangle miserably off of the couch end. 

“We can go to bed,” you start, but Steve cuts you off. 

“Can’t wait,” he says, pulling you towards him awkwardly. “I - _god,_ this hurts my dick-“

“Your bed is -“

Steve’s mouth on your clit makes you interrupt your sentence with a moan. He pulls you closer, licks a stripe up you, before sucking gently at your clit. 

“F - Steve -“

“Could eat you out forever,” he groans, pressing a kiss to your clit. His eyes dart up to you and he’s temporarily distracted by how beautiful you look - like an angel, quite honestly. “You’re so gorgeous. How did I get so lucky?”

“I’m only in it for the money.”

“That sucks, because I have none,” he says, then leans forward to flick his tongue against your clit. 

“G… good thing… you have a… nice dick,” you pant, and he smirks into you, gently fucking his tongue into you for a few moments before leaning back. 

“I’m funny, too. And handsome. And athletic.”

“And smart, and brave, and the nicest person I’ve ever met.” You reach down to run your hand through his hair and he smiles gently up at you. 

“Do you want to get off, or keep complimenting me?” He kisses your thigh. “I could go with either.”

Before you can answer, his mouth is on you again. He swirls his tongue around your nub and then fucks his tongue into you gently, never taking his eyes off of your face as he does. He feels himself leaking as you writhe under him, moaning out his name, trying to grind yourself on his face. 

“Patience,” he says, pulling away. “Just relax, okay?”

“O… okay.”

Steve works on you again, forcing himself to go slower this time, moving his tongue gently around your core. His legs hurt from hanging off the end of the couch - he thinks it has to look comical - but he doesn’t care. He only cares about you and your pleasure, making you feel good, showing how much he loved you. When your legs start to shake, he pulls back, smiling smugly at you. “Coming so soon?”

“You’re good,” you say, sitting up so that he can awkwardly maneuver himself back onto the couch. You straddle him again, both of you moaning when the head of his cock presses against your folds. You kiss him as passionately and as slowly as you can, moaning when you taste yourself on him. Steve once again pulls you as close as possible, running his hands along your back slowly. Everything was _slow,_ and as much as you wanted him, this felt good, too. 

“Hold on,” he pants. “Gotta get a condom.”

“ _Whyyy_ ,” you whine, climbing off of him. “Can’t you just grow one?”

He scrunches his nose and stumbles again as he heads for his room. “Gross!”

He comes back from his room with a condom and lube - why he wouldn’t just take you to the bed, you don’t know - and he stands in front of you. “How do you want this?”

“Let me ride you,” you say eagerly. 

Steve smirks and sits, rolling the condom onto himself. “Just _can’t_ resist me, huh?”

“We would have sex either way,” you say, straddling him again. You take the lube from him and pour some onto the condom, making him groan. 

“Yeah, but you’re so _obsessed_ with me,” he says. 

Your brain hurts as you try to understand what he’s saying, the alcohol not helping. “Your _penis_ would go into my _vagina_ in literally any position.”

“ _Yeah,_ but you want to _top me_ so bad.”

“Do you want me to tell you I love your cock?”

“That would be nice,” he smiles.

Without warning, you sink down onto him, slowly, but enough to make his mouth drop. You bite your lip as you sit on him, feeling him twitch inside of you, and you rest when you’re fully seated. Steve’s still, somehow, pleased into silence, staring at you with his mouth open. You lean forward and press your lips against his ear. “Your cock is incredible.”

Steve groans and grabs your hips. “More, please?”

You rise up slowly, then move back down slowly. Steve’s head lolls back to the couch, but you follow his ear with your lips. “Fill me up so good, baby.”

“Yeah?” he asks, licking his lips, voice cracking. 

“So fucking good,” you promise, moving your hips again. “You’re so cute, Steve.”

He mumbles a _thank you_ and you kiss his cheek before picking up the pace, hands on Steve’s shoulders. His mouth falls open and he gets loud again, speaking gibberish and swearing, slowly rocking up into you to meet your hips. Your mouth falls back open when he moves a hand down to circle your clit with his lean fingers. “Oh, fuck, Steve!”

“Yeah?” he asks, fingers digging into your hips. “Feels good?”

You can only nod, continuing to ride him, until he suddenly starts thrusting up into you. He’s quick and hard, and you lean forward to bury your face into the crook of his neck as he continues. He wraps an arm around the back of your waist, his other hand still working at your clit. 

“You feel so good,” he groans. “Squeezing me so tight. So hot.”

You laugh suddenly, but Steve’s pace doesn’t falter, even though his brows quirk together.

“Am I go- _shit_ \- gonna melt your dick?”

Steve laughs, then moans. “Y… yeah, maybe.”

You grab his face to kiss him as he continues. You almost die when he slides his tongue into your mouth, cock hitting just the right spots. You know you’re close, but you want to focus on Steve, so you move your feet to pin his legs to the couch. 

“What?” he pants. “Am I doing something wrong?”

“Wanna be nice and gentle with you,” you whisper, and then start riding him again, slow and deep. Steve moans and presses his hips into the couch to prevent himself from fucking up into you. When you move to suck on his neck again, he whines, and tries to move your hips down on his cock faster. 

“Patience,” you moan. 

“Goin’ _crazy_ ,” he moans. “I’m… I’m close, sweetheart-“

“Come for me, baby boy,” you whisper, right into his ear, making goosebumps form on his skin. “Wanna feel you come in me, sweet boy. Want you to feel good.”

Steve squeezes his eyes shut and works his fingers against your clit quickly, trying to get you to come with him. You gasp and shudder into him, moaning “I’m close,” into his ear, and that’s when he finally lets himself come undone. He shivers and moans loudly, eyes rolling back, thrusting up into you gently. You come soon after, shaking on him, pressing yourself against his chest. 

“Shit,” he breathes after a moment. “Holy….”

“Yeah,” you agree. “ _Yeah_.”

“You okay?” he asks, folding his arms around you, keeping you close to his chest. 

“Hell yeah I am,” you laugh. “You?”

“Never better.”

You kiss for a moment before sliding off of him. He ties and throws away the condom before joining you on the couch, chest pressed against yours. He kisses you again, gentle and light. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you murmur. “You’re so good and handsome and kind, Stevie.”

He moves to rest his head on your chest, eyes falling shut as you play with his hair. 

“Did you tell Jack Frost you needed it to snow to get laid?”

Steve smiles into your skin. “I know I don’t need snow to get you to sleep with me.”

“Just a bottle of wine, right?”

“ _Noooo_ ,” he says. “You wanna fuck me all the time.”

“True,” you say, pressing a kiss to his head. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

His eyes drift shut as you both watch the end of _A Christmas Story,_ listening to your heartbeat as he holds you. 

“Do you wanna move to your bed _now_?”

“No,” he yawns. “It’s not time to sleep yet.”

“You’re falling asleep right now, Steve.”

“No I’m not,” he says, closing his eyes again. “I’m just _laying_ here.”

You laugh. “You’re impossible, Steve Harrington.”

Steve smiles sleepily. “And you’re beautiful.” 


	8. the first christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s Eleven’s first Christmas, and Joyce and Hopper make it everything she ever wanted it to be, while kindling their own romance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jopper. simply sweet fluff! I am not very good at writing for Jopper but I hope this is still enjoyable!!

“Do you know what Christmas is?”

El shakes her head timidly, and Hopper lets out a deep sigh. Of course they never let her celebrate Christmas.

“What… is… Christmas?”

Hopper doesn’t know what to say. He tries to think back to what he had told Sarah when she was growing up, but nothing really comes to mind. He’s pretty sure Sarah just understood it since she’d grown up with it. “Uh… it’s a celebration that we have every December to celebrate the birth….” Does El _really_ need to know who Jesus Christ is? Does _Hopper_ even know? “Of some guy that a lot of people… care about.”

“Like a birthday?”

“Yeah, except a lot of people celebrate.”

El nods. “What do we do?”

Hopper thinks the best way to show her is to have her watch some Christmas movies, hence why they were set up by the TV. “Here, you’ll get the hang of it.”

He _almost_ showed her _It’s a Wonderful Life,_ but Joyce vehemently protested, insisting on showing El _Miracle on 34th Street_ first. Joyce said it was the best way to show El the meaning of Christmas, even if Hopper didn’t necessarily want El to believe in Santa. Hop trusted Joyce with his life, so he agreed, but he’s pretty sure it was the wrong call.

“Who is that?”

“That’s Santa.”

A long pause. “What does he do?”

 _Shit._ “He’s the… person- he’s the image of Christmas. He brings gifts and makes sure everyone is being nice to each other.” He shakes his head at himself, but El seems to get it. She gets the present thing and the spirit of Christmas pretty well, but the legal proceedings weren’t helpful.

“Why don’t they think he’s real?” she asks quietly.

“Well, the guy is real, but people don’t think Santa is.”

“Is he?”

 _Jesus Christ._ “Santa is a frame of mind. He might not be a real… person, but the message is there.”

El looks at him with furrowed brows, so he tries to elaborate.

“Santa… is Santa. He’s…. He brings people joy. So… if he’s not real, joy is still a thing.”

“Joyce?”

“No, not Joyce,” he laughs. “Joy. Happiness.”

“Oh.” She looks back to the TV. “Why isn’t it colored?”

“Old movies were in black and white.”

“Why?”

Sometimes Hopper hated being a dad, but only because he could _not_ explain things very well. Not as well as Joyce could, anyway. He wishes she were here right now - not just to answer El’s questions, but because, quite frankly, he missed her. “They just were. I don’t know.”

“Oh. Okay.”

The movie finishes with El pretty much bouncing on the couch. She doesn’t verbally state her excitement, but it’s evident on her face.

“Fun, right? Makes you feel good?”

El nods. “Do we celebrate?”

“We will, if you want to.”

To be honest, Hop didn’t really know where he was going with this, hence why he didn’t think of a better explanation for Santa. He just remembers how much Sarah loved it, and he wants to make El that happy. He enlisted Joyce’s help with Christmas stuff, like finding presents and wrapping. Joyce loved El as much as Will and Jonathan, so she agreed easily.

El nods. “Yes.”

“Okay, well, get excited,” Hop says, pushing out of his chair. “It’s in twenty five days.”

El does the math in her head - 25 days was nothing after waiting forever for Mike. “Really?”

“Really,” Hop says. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

===

The Byers went all out for El’s first Christmas.

Joyce, Will, and Jonathan came to help set up the house on the fifth. Jonathan had made snowflake cutouts, which Will had covered, to hang around the house. Joyce brought Christmas books for El to read, peppermint cookies, and hot chocolate. They’d brought some ornaments that wouldn’t fit on their tree, as well as lights, for the tiny pine that Hop had cut down in the woods. El really liked the smell of pine, fresh and uplifting. Her smile didn’t falter for a second as everyone moved around the small cabin, hanging things and cleaning. Jonathan gave El an old Santa hat, but she put it on Hopper and pouted until he reluctantly wore it.

“Looks good on you,” Joyce said in passing, which made Hop stop trying to prop up the tree.

“You mean that?”

Joyce didn’t answer, but Hopper’s smile was as big as El’s.

Probably the first thing El picked up on when she moved in with Hopper was that he loved Joyce. She knew it way before him, and wanted them to be together more than he did. El liked Joyce and always felt close to her, but she wanted Hopper to be happy, too. Once she learned about mistletoe from a Christmas movie Hopper showed her, there was no stopping her. She was going to get them to kiss, just like the couples in the movies.

Will had found an old bundle up in their attic and brought it for El, confused with why she wanted it. He figured she just wanted to touch it, or wanted the whole experience, or something. El really just wanted to make it float above the two at the perfect time. Which was, admittedly, not tonight - but soon.

===

“Snow!”

Hopper nodded at the stove. “Yep, just in time for your first Christmas.”

El made Hopper blast Christmas records the entire morning of Christmas Eve, _and_ she made him wear the Santa hat. Hopper would have been irritated if it was anyone else, but El’s goofy smile convinced him to keep the hat on. He made her Christmas themed Eggos, complete with crushed candy canes and white chocolate, for breakfast. As they sat to eat, Hopper noticed a mischievous smile on El’s face.

“What?” he asked, mouth full.

El looked up at him and smiled more, but didn’t say anything.

“Alright,” he said, staring at her carefully. “Better behave. Joyce and the boys are coming soon.”

El’s smile grew, and Hopper didn’t understand why. But he felt close to smiling, too.

===

“ _Jesus,_ Joyce,” Hopper groaned, helping her and the kids carry in presents. He didn’t even know where she _got_ all of this, or how she could afford it, but every last parcel went under the tiny tree in the living room. El’s face hurt from smiling, but she tried not to be too excited.

“What?” Joyce asked, throwing her free arm out. Quietly, she adds, “I wanted her first Christmas to be memorable.”

“It will be,” he promises. “Thanks to you guys.”

Joyce places the present she was holding under the tree and hits Hopper’s chest lightly. “You did good, too, Hop.” She looks up at the Santa hat and smiles as she adjusts the brim. “It - It’s crooked.” Her tongue sticks slightly out of the side of her mouth as she stands on her tiptoes, and she lowers herself slowly, continuing to stare up at him. El watches closely, almost about to make the mistletoe hover above them, but Joyce finally breaks from her stare and brushes herself off. “Who wants to make cookies?”

The day went by quickly, spent baking and taking breaks to watch movies. Jonathan rolled his eyes nearly the entire time, but stayed patient for El - and for Will, too, who was enjoying it. Will explained things for El - like who the Grinch was, and how animated movies work. El would nod and listen, but her mind kept wandering to Hopper and Joyce, who were prepping things in the kitchen.

“You don’t _have_ to bake a pie,” Joyce said, fiddling with the pie crust. “Just because you’re eating at our house doesn’t mean you owe us.”

“I owe you for more than that.” He leans against the counter and sips on his coffee. “You made her so happy.”

Joyce shrugs. “Every kid deserves a good Christmas. Especially her. And Will.”

Hopper nods and stops himself from thinking too hard about the last two years. The only good things about it was adopting El and reconnecting with Joyce.

“Remember that snowball fight in the schoolyard?”

Joyce smiles and nods. “The one you started?”

“It wasn’t me!” he promises, laughing. “It was another Jim.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Joyce beams. “The only person who would hit me in the head with a snowball is _you_.”

“That’s not true.”

Joyce scoffs and turns to him. “Do you think everyone should hit me in the head?”

“I’m not saying that,” he says slowly. “But you _did_ get hit, like, ten times -”

Joyce reaches for some leftover cookie icing and swipes it onto Hopper’s nose. He’s taken aback, but Joyce smiles wide, wiping her hands on her pants.

“You did not just do that.”

Joyce feigns a frown. “Mmm. Looks like I did.”

Hopper reaches for the icing, but Joyce grabs his arm, laughing. “No, Hop - _don’t_ -”

His finger swipes across her cheek and she gasps, not quite shocked but a little surprised, and grabs more for herself. “You ass -”

“Language,” he says, dodging her lunge. “Jeez, Joyce, you haven’t been this feisty since -”

“Since when?” she asks, lunging for him again, and Hop grabs her wrists to stop her. She takes a step towards him and their chests touch, both smiling. But Hopper’s smile falters, because Joyce is _so beautiful,_ and this is the first time he’s seen her smile in a long, long time. He never wants the moment to end. Joyce suddenly bristles, and she gently slides out from his grip.

“Since high school,” Hop says smoothly, resting on the counter again.

“Yeah, well,” Joyce mumbles, once again playing with the pie crust. Her face falls, and then she looks over to him. “Do you even know how to make a pie?”

“You could teach me.”

She smiles again. “Well, I guess I _have_ to.”

===

The kids managed to doze off, apparently too bored with the movies that were playing. Joyce and Hopper sat at the kitchen table, sharing cigarettes and a bottle of wine.

“What was the worst Christmas you’ve ever had?” Hopper asks, flicking his cigarette into the ashtray.

“Oh,” Joyce says, like she was waiting for the question. “First Christmas with Lonnie. He spent all of our money to get himself a - a - a _gun._ Didn’t even get me anything.”

Hopper swallows down his anger, never one to like Lonnie, especially after what he’d done to Joyce. “Damn.”

“Yeah.” She takes a drag. “Said his gift to me was to teach me how to use it.”

“Never took him up on it, huh?”

“No way,” she says, flicking her own ash. “What was yours?”

Hopper’s stomach drops and he diverts his eyes from hers, choosing to stare at the smoke rising from the glass tray. “First Christmas after Sarah.”

Joyce exhales slowly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have -”

“It’s okay,” he says. “I don’t think about it much anymore.”

Joyce frowns and reaches for his hand, resting hers on top of it. “You’re doing a really good job.”

Hopper chuckles. “Thanks.”

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

There’s a moment of silence before Joyce retracts her hand and asks, “What was your best Christmas?”

Hopper smiles gently, takes a drag, and flicks the ash. “This one.” His eyes wander over the El, curled up on his chair, the boys sleeping on the couch. “It’s nice… being around people again. I guess….” He looks at his hands. “I guess I missed it.”

Joyce bites her lip. “It’s my best Christmas, too.”

Hopper looks up, brows furrowed. “Really?”

“Really,” she whispers. “Because I have Will, and he’s safe. And Jonathan’s safe. And El is safe and happy.”

“Yeah.” Hopper takes a slow drag. “You know why else it’s my favorite Christmas?”

“Why?”

He pauses. “Because I could spend time with you.”

He thinks he’s imagining Joyce’s blush, but she moves a hand up to her face to hide it, confirming its existence. “It’s been a long time, huh?”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “It’s nice to….” He swallows. “To have you back.”

Joyce looks like she’s holding back, but she finally whispers, “It’s nice to have you back, too.”

And Hopper doesn’t know how, but there’s suddenly mistletoe hanging above them. He swears it wasn’t there before, that it just appeared in his line of vision. Joyce also seems shocked. “Wh - I don’t remember hanging that up.”

“Me neither.” Hopper puts his cigarette out and stands at the same time Joyce does to examine it.

“It looks like something from my house,” Joyce says, brows furrowed. “How - How’d it get - here?”

“What the hell is it hanging off of?” Hopper mutters, and then he realizes it’s floating - El.

His head snaps to the chair. El’s still curled up with her eyes closed, but she’s smiling slightly. Hopper smiles too, then looks back at Joyce, who’s still eyeing the mistletoe.

“How did it -?”

“Joyce.”

“Maybe one of the kids brought it -”

“ _Joyce_.”

“What the heck is it hanging on?”

“Joyce!”

She finally looks at him. “What?”

Hopper was expecting her to get the hint. “Uh. Do you know what mistletoe is for?”

“Yeah?”

He chuckles timidly. “Eh - uh, _Joyce_.”

She shakes her head, lifts her eyebrows. “ _Yeah?_ ”

He leans forward and kisses her, fast, so fast that she hardly even registers it. She looks shocked when he pulls back, and his cheeks flush. Joyce stares at him with wide eyes still, trying to process it.

“I’m so- shit, I’m sorry,” he says, but Joyce leans forward and kisses him, quick, before pulling back.

They both stare at each other, and then the mistletoe falls, shocking them both out of it. Will and Jonathan wake up at the sound, and El wipes her nose as she sits up and stretches. Hopper grabs the mistletoe and holds it while Joyce runs a hand through her hair, biting her lip to stop the smile. “Boys, we sh… we should probably go. It’s late.”

Hopper smiles as he watches them pack up, Joyce tripping over herself.

“Are you okay, mom?” Jonathan asks, holding onto her arm.

“Fine,” she says, waving him off, pointedly avoiding Hopper’s gaze. “Must - must’ve drank too much.”

“I’ll drive, don’t worry about it,” Jonathan says, helping her into her coat.

“You guys drive safe, okay?” Hopper says, an amused smile on his face, and Joyce’s cheeks flush.

“We will. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Everyone says their goodbyes - Joyce and Hop’s gaze lingering a little too long - and when the door shuts, Hopper turns on his heels, looking right at El. He smiles wide. “Didn’t know you were a little trickster.”

She beams and shrugs. “Merry Christmas.”

Hopper steps forward and hugs her, pulling her in close. “Merry Christmas, kid.”


	9. the gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonathan is stuck between buying Steve something nice or buying Will new art supplies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a cute lil stonathan fic! I hope you enjoy!

Jonathan really kinda hated how good Steve was with presents. He always knew what to get every single person. He was just keen on the things people liked, intuitive in terms of people’s interests. Every year, Steve hit a slam dunk, even before Jonathan was dating him. Nancy _still_ uses the curling iron with that whatever-technology, and they’d been broken up for three years. He was just _good_ at it, and it drove Jonathan crazy. Especially when Steve was now his boyfriend.

“I cannot wait to give you your gifts,” Steve beamed, playing with Jonathan’s hair as his head rested on Steve’s chest.

“Gifts?” Jonathan quirked a brow, then sat up. “I - plural?”

“Of course,” Steve said, leaning forward and kissing Jonathan gently. “Gotta spoil you.”

Jonathan felt _sick._

Because here’s the thing - Jonathan doesn’t have a lot of disposable income. This much is obvious. And Steve knows that, very well. But Jonathan didn’t know _how well_ Steve knew that. Especially now, around Christmas, when Jonathan could only get either Will or Steve a present.

Joyce insisted on no presents - “ _You being safe is more than enough, Jonathan”_ \- but that still left his brother and his boyfriend to pick between. He couldn’t even make things like Will makes his friends. His camera had no more film, and buying more was way over the budget he already had. He tried picking up more shifts at the theater, but it wasn’t getting many patrons as the mall was rebuilt, anyway.

And Jonathan _knows._ He _knows_ he doesn’t need to get Steve something. Knows that Steve wouldn’t even pout. But he still loved him, and he knows getting gifts for others is a show of your appreciation. So, even if Steve didn’t care, Jonathan did.

But Will. Will deserved everything. Every single day, Jonathan’s goal is to make him smile and feel welcomed and warm and safe. It was his life mission. And sure, Joyce already bought him something, but wouldn’t Will be so happy if he had two presents instead of one?

Jonathan wanted to tear his hair out.

It was a split second decision, though, to buy the gift for Steve. There was a sale on Steve’s favorite skincare brand at Macy’s, and Jonathan couldn’t pass it up. The bundle he purchased was just under the budget, only saving about a dollar. _A dollar_. Which meant Steve would be happy, and Will wouldn’t be.

Jonathan tried to reason with himself. Will would understand, too. Will doesn't need a lot. He’s a happy kid. But Will deserved something, especially after the last three years. He deserved something to make him happy.

Two days before Christmas, Jonathan was near tears, the guilt eating him alive. Even as Steve held him in bed, smiling contently, Jonathan pushed the tip of his tongue to the roof of his mouth to hold off the tears.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks suddenly.

Jonathan opens his mouth to say _yeah,_ but the only thing that comes out is a broken sob.

Steve panics. Jonathan _never_ cries around anyone. He sits them both up and holds Jonathan sideways as the younger boy cries into his shoulder. Steve’s heart rate increases - _why is he crying? Are we about to break up? Did someone hurt him?_

“Sweetheart, talk to me,” he coos. “What’s goin’ on?”

“I just -“ Jonathan sucks in a breath. “I… I had to get Will a present.”

Steve frowns. “Okay?”

“And I got _you_ one.”

“Alright?”

Jonathan sobs again. “I…. Steve, I couldn’t get Will anything.”

_Oh._

Steve frowns. “Jonathan, you didn’t have to get me anything. Why -“

“Because I _wanted_ to. I wanted to get you something.” Jonathan sniffles and wipes his tears with the back of his hand. “I wanted to spoil you.”

Steve shakes his head and pulls Jonathan in again. “Jonathan, I don’t need a present. I don’t want one.”

Jonathan’s confused now. “Why?”

“I have literally everything I could ever ask for,” Steve says. “I’ve got you and the kids and a -“ he laughs, “and a trust fund. The only thing I’d want is you, and I have you.”

Jonathan scoffs. “Yeah, okay.”

“I’m serious!” Steve leans back, holding Jonathan’s shoulders to look at him. “Jonathan, I’ve wanted you for so long. And I have you. What more is there?”

Jonathan frowns softly. “But Will….”

Steve jumps up then, immediately moving to put his shoes on. “You still have the receipt for my gift?”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s go get it, make a return, and get Will the best damn present he’s ever gotten.”

Jonathan laughs. “Steve, I still only have, like, thirty dollars -“

Steve waves his hand. “I’ll pitch in.”

“What?”

“We should get him paints - he likes that stuff, right?”

Jonathan shakes his head. “But paints are a million dollars -“

“Trust fund baby perks,” Steve says, pointing at himself with his thumb. “I think Blick is having a store sale today.”

Jonathan shakes his head more. “No. No way. I don’t - I don’t need your help, Steve. I don’t need - we don’t need any charity.”

Steve’s shoulders drop a bit and he sighs. “Look, I won’t pitch in if you don’t want me to. But I think Will should have a good Christmas, too. He’s not as much of a little shit as the other ones are. I don’t mind. I don’t even need credit.” Steve bites his lip. “I just want to make you and him happy. And if it helps, I can return some of your gifts so it evens out.”

Jonathan hates pity. Hates charity. Hates how the kids at school used to call him dirty and how his teachers would pull him aside and ask if he needed help getting clothes. But with Steve - Steve’s not pitying him. Steve just genuinely wants to help. He wants nothing in return, either - no thank yous or money or any applause. He just wants to help.

Jonathan stands and throws his arms around Steve, gentle, like always. Steve holds him back gently, burying his head in the crook of Jonathan’s shoulder. “Does this win me boyfriend points?”

Jonathan pulls back and scoffs. “You wish.”

“Whatever,” Steve jokes, reaching for Jonathan’s jacket to help him put it on. “What was my present, anyway?”

“La Mer gift set,” Jonathan says, and Steve gasps.

“You know me so _well_ ,” he smiles, kissing Jonathan’s cheek. “Maybe I should just buy it from you.”

“You can’t buy my love, Steve Harrington.”

Steve shrugs, beaming. “Worth a try.”

===

“No way!”

Will’s eyes lit up and his mouth fell as he pulled out a set of oil paints. They were the ones he’d been looking at forever, always stopping to fantasize about having them before walking away from the shop window. “Jonathan, this is so cool!”

“There’s more,” Jonathan says, feeling Steve squeezing his arm.

Will unwraps another gift - a heavy weight paint pad, the best that the store had for those kinds of paints. “Holy -“

“Will!” Joyce says, raising her eyes at him.

“I wasn’t gonna _say_ it -“

“One more,” Jonathan says, laughing.

The final gift was a set of expensive brushes, with real, expensive hair. Will was in shock, gaping at the present. “Jonathan… thank you!”

“You’re welcome, buddy,” Jonathan smiles. He looks over at Steve, who’s trying to hide his smile, and Steve looks back.

“Looks like someone did good,” Steve whispers as Will shows Joyce the gifts.

Jonathan rolls his eyes. “Merry Christmas,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to Steve’s temple.

“Steve!” Will says. “There’s something here for you.”

Steve’s brows furrow painfully. “What?”

“Maybe you should look,” Jonathan says, trying his best to keep a poker face.

Will brings Steve the gift and he stares at the wrapping paper before slowly peeling it off. It was a mixtape, sealed in a case, with the words _Steve’s Christmas Mix_ scribbled on it. Steve’s mouth opens and shuts, then again, before he looks at Jonathan. It was just like the present he got Jonathan the year before, when he admitted his feelings for him.

“I… I thought you weren’t getting me anything.”

“I wasn’t,” Jonathan says. “But then I remembered that mixtapes exist and are extremely cheap to make when you already have every album in the world.”

Steve looks back at the tape. This was better than any skin care package or sweater or cologne. This was Jonathan. This was personal, something only Jonathan could make.

“They’re happy songs, I promise,” Jonathan mutters, bouncing his leg in anxiety.

“Jonathan,” Steve whispers. “Thank you.”

“We should listen to it,” Will says. “Mom has a stereo out here.”

Will places the disc into the stereo. David Bowie’s voice rings from the speakers, and Steve laughs loudly, looking at Jonathan and shaking his head. “Cheesy.”

“That’s what you like, isn’t it? _Cheesy?”_

“I like anything with you.”

Jonathan rolls his eyes, but smiles. He leans forward and kisses Steve, and for a moment, everything feels calm.


	10. the tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve decorates the tree with his kids for their fifth Christmas. (early 90s au)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve x Reader! no warnings just fluff <3

“You started without me?”

You whirl around to face Steve, who’s shrugging his snowy jacket off at the front door. Your kids, Lily and Audrey, jump off the floor and fly towards him. “Dad!”

“It’s me,” he smiles, bending down to hug them both. “I thought I told you guys to wait til I got home?”

“We _couldn’t_ wait, daddy,” Audrey pouts. “You took too long!”

“I was gone for five hours!” he laughs. “Can’t believe mom let you.”

“They were very persuasive,” you beam.

“Yeah?” he asks, looking back at the girls. They were his pride and joy, his _everything._ His face always lit up when he walked through the door, or when he went to their preschool plays. He loved them more than anything in the world. You couldn’t get over his adoration for them - and their adoration for him.

“It sounds like maybe… _maybe…_ it’s time for….” Steve grabs Lily and starts tickling her, giggling when she starts giggling.

“Dad, stop!” Lily shrieks, trying to twist away from him.

Audrey goes behind him and wraps her arms around his neck, jumping onto his back. “Daddy, don’t!”

“Oh, you want some, too?” he beams, reaching for Audrey, pulling her down and tickling her, too.

“Mommy, help!”

“Okay, tickle monster,” you say, walking over towards them. “Leave ‘em alone, it was my idea, anyw-“

“You!” Steve shouts, letting go of Audrey and grabbing you. “My own wife!”

“Steve -“ you laugh, and then shriek when he starts tickling you, too. “St- Steve! _Stop!_ ”

“Tickle monster stops for no one,” he says, but lets you go, both of you panting and giggling. You step forward to hug him, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Missed you,” you say quietly.

“Tell me about it,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m here now.”

Lily tugs on Steve’s jeans. “Daddy, tree!”

“Okay,” he says, pulling away from you. “Show me what you’ve done already.”

Lily and Audrey take him to the tree set up in the corner of your living room. It only had a few bulbs on it, but Steve always loved decorating the tree. He liked the nostalgia, and he especially liked all of the sentimental ornaments you’d both collected over the years. Every year for the past five years, he told Audrey and Lily the story for almost every ornament, and let them put it on the tree, sometimes lifting them up to get towards the top. It’d quickly become one of your favorite traditions, too.

“Here, look!” Audrey says, pointing at a snowman shaped ornament and tugging on Steve’s hand. “This one is me!”

It was a picture of Audrey when she was a newborn, her hair as thick as Steve’s. Steve looks at it, and even though he’d been the one who told her who it was, he still furrows his brows. “That’s not you.”

“Yeah huh!”

“Can’t be,” he says, trying not to smile. “You’re right here.”

“No, _dad,_ it’s a _picture!”_

“That’s a baby,” Steve says, smile breaking through. “You’re not a baby now, are you?”

“No!” she shouts. “I’m five!”

“That’s right!” Steve laughs. “I’m kidding, sweetheart. That’s you.”

“Me!” Lily yells, pointing at her own picture. She was born on the same day and took after you, her eyes the same color as yours. They _both_ took after their dad in terms of loudness.

Steve gasps. “Look at that! You’ve grown up so much!”

“Let’s add some more,” you say, sitting down on the floor, the rest of them following. Audrey climbs into Steve’s lap and Lily presses herself as close as possible so she can listen to him tell stories.

You pull out one that says _Christmas, 1988._ It was in the shape of a candy cane with a mouse propping it up. “This was our first Christmas together.”

“My mom bought us that,” Steve says, taking it from you. “So tacky.”

“What’s tacky?” Lily asks.

“It’s like when mom wore that neon green dress to prom.”

“Oh, shut up, Steve -“

“Here, go ahead and hang it Lil.” He passes it off to her and grabs another one. This one is a small wooden nutcracker. “This is from your house, right?”

“Yep. I think my first grade teacher gave me that.”

“Boring,” Steve says, handing it to Audrey. “Hide it somewhere.”

“You’re so mean!”

“Am not,” he says, leaning over to kiss your temple. “Just gotta keep the crowd entertained.”

You roll your eyes but smile. You grab another ornament - a snowman with a tiny picture frame. It had a picture of you and Steve in it from your second Christmas - Steve wore an extremely ugly sweater. “ _That’s_ tacky.”

“Yeah,” he says absentmindedly, taking it in his hands. “Girls, what do you think?”

“It’s my best picture of you and mom,” Audrey says, turning around in Steve’s lap to kiss his cheek. “Pretty.”

“Pretty,” Lily repeats. “Were you guys in lub?”

“In love? Yeah,” Steve smiles. “Or, I was, at least.”

“Oh, I was, too,” you assure him quickly. “I’d never been so in love. I still am.”

Steve smiles over at you while your daughters shout an _awwwww!_

“Was daddy, like, your prince?” Lily says, pushing herself harder into Steve to be closer.

“More like my knight in shining armor,” you say. They didn’t know about the Upside Down - and they hopefully never would - but Steve really was more like a knight than anything. And a prince. He’d saved your life in more ways than one. “Or, well, in a _Members Only_ jacket.”

“I loved that jacket.”

“I did, too.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks, leaning towards you again.

“Focus, daddy!” Audrey shouts, pulling his chin back towards the tree. Steve laughs and keeps going, grabbing ornaments and explaining their origins, then letting the girls put them on the tree. You leave after a while to make them hot chocolate, and the girls run into the kitchen, hugging your legs.

“Thank you mommy!” they say in unison.

“For what, babies?” you ask, grabbing their mugs.

“Hot choccy,” Audrey says, and you laugh - Steve says it that way and they’d both attached to it.

“We lub you,” Lily says, planting a kiss on your thigh.

Steve walks in, smiling. “I lub you, too,” he joins in, coming to lean on the counter next to you. You give their mugs and they leave, heading upstairs.

“Where’re they going?” you ask, handing Steve his mug.

“I told them they should go watch the Muppets,” he smirks, bumping his hips into yours. “Which means we are alone.”

“Interesting,” you smile. “That Members Only jacket comment must’ve really gotten to you, huh?”

“And the tree,” he says. “And you. And our pictures. I love you so much.”

You smile smugly. “The tree got you excited?”

“No,” he laughs, sitting his mug down so he could hug you. “I just love you. Okay?”

“I love you, too,” you sigh, pulling him in close. “Maybe _we_ should watch Muppets.”

“We can,” he says, “but only if you sit by me.”

“Can do,” you hum, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I love you, even if you called my prom dress tacky.”

“And I love you, even if you lost my Members Only jacket when we moved.”

“That was _not_ my fault and you know it!”

“Definitely was,” Steve says, nodding, a piece of hair falling over his forehead. “It’s okay. I still love you.”

You kiss him. “Love you too, Steve.”


	11. the exchange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve gives the kids their presents at their annual holiday party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no warnings or anything! just cute babysitter Steve being best at gift giving

“Listen up!”

Steve had brought a literal sack of presents to the Wheeler residence, making everyone’s brows shoot up to their hairline. Mike and Dustin continually asked what was inside the bag, but Steve refused to budge until it was time for presents.

“Do we finally get to see what you brought?” Dustin asks, sitting on the floor in front of Steve and the bag.

“Yes, dipshit, that’s why I’m telling you to listen up.” Steve waits for the kids to sit and settle before continuing. “Here are your gifts. I will not take criticism. You should be thankful for my babysitting expertise, anyway -”

“ _What_ babysitting expertise?” Mike asks.

“Eat shit,” Steve replies. “You made me fight demodogs and crawl into an underground dimension with you.”

“That was Dustin,” Max points out.

“And I wasn’t there,” El says.

“Me neither,” Will and Mike say in unison.

“Whatever. No one even protested,” Steve grumbles, reaching his hand into the bag. “Will, you’re first.”

Will gingerly takes the package from Steve. “Can I open it?”

“If you want to now, you can.”

Will nods and tears the wrapping paper off, revealing a sketch pad and charcoal pencils. He gasps and looks up at Steve with a smile. “Thanks, Steve.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says, fighting off his own smile. He reaches back into the bag. “Mike, for you.”

Mike’s face actually softens, like he wasn’t expecting a present. Steve watches with baited breath as Mike opens the present - it’s a brand new radio, one of the good new ones that he’d been begging Karen for. Steve hates that he had to actually talk to Karen about getting it for Mike, but at least Mike’s smile was worth it. “You got me this?”

“I handed it to you, didn’t I?”

Mike rolls his eyes, but his smile doesn’t falter. “Thanks.”

“Whatever,” Steve says, biting his cheek to stop himself from smiling back. “Dustin, you’re up.”

Dustin wiggles in place and shuts his eyes as Steve puts the gift in his hands. Dustin unwraps it eagerly and gasps loudly.

“What the hell is that?” Max asks.

“It’s K-9 Mark II!” Dustin shouts, holding the small, robotic dog in his hands. It was a small copy, but it still lit up, fully functional. “It’s a companion for the fourth Doctor!”

“Woah!” Lucas grabs it from Dustin and looks at it. “Does it talk?”

“Yeah,” Steve says. He doesn’t understand what the heck it is at all, but he paid a lot of money for it and knew Dustin would like it. “But don’t play with it now. El is next.”

Steve hands her a tiny package which she unwraps delicately. Her eyes light up and she takes the object out of the box - a neon colored Swatch.

“It’s a watch,” Steve explains, even though she probably already knew that. “So you can tell the time without needing Mike.”

“Pretty,” she says quietly. “Thank you.”

“Okay, next two are kinda big,” Steve says. “Lucas, for you.”

Lucas shakes the box before ripping the paper off. He gasps as soon as he sees the shoe box and lifts the lid. Inside sat a pair of black and white checkered Vans, which Lucas had been talking about forever. “Holy shit!”

“Hope they fit,” Steve says. “I had Max figure out your shoe size.”

As Lucas takes off his shoes to try the new ones on, Steve reaches into the bag. “Max, close your eyes.”

Max quirks a brow but does so, holding out her hands. Steve struggles to get the skateboard out, and has to shush everyone when they see it, and he finally places it in Max’s hands. She opens her eyes and gasps, jaw dropped. “No. Way.”

“Yes way,” Steve says. “That duct tape wasn’t going to last much longer.”

“Steve,” she breathes. “You - this is a lot.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, rolling the bag up, avoiding her gaze. “I can still give you a ride to school if you want.”

“Thank you, Steve.” She tries to swallow her tears, and Steve’s smile finally breaks through, hurting his cheeks.

“You’re _all_ welcome,” he says, standing up, but Dustin pulls him back down.

“We got you something,” he says. Will produces a box, and Steve furrows his brows.

“You didn’t have to,” he says, taking it gently. “And don’t you all have, like, five dollars between you?”

“We didn’t say it was expensive,” Mike says.

Steve unwraps it, then opens the box. He pulls out a mug and looks at the side - _World’s Best Babysitter_ was written on the side. He chuckles, then laughs, then laughs _loud,_ and the kids join in with him.

“Wow, _thanks,_ ” Steve says, putting it back in the box. “Really, thanks.”

“You are the best babysitter,” El says.

“I know,” Steve smiles. “That’s why your parents all hire me.”

“You just like hanging out with us,” Lucas says.

“No way,” he replies, but he doesn’t mean it. “One last thing - I brought cookies.”

“Yes!” Will gasps, and everyone almost crawls over Steve to grab them.

“ _Jesus_ , _easy_ \- you’re like starving demodogs.”

But he can’t wipe the smile off of his face as he watches them all eat the cookies he’d baked and inspect each other’s gifts. It may not have been his choice at first, but he was sure of one thing - he really liked being their babysitter.


	12. pretty lights on the tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader misses Steve during Christmas and decides to go home to visit him at the same time he decides to visit them. (based on Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this became an amalgamation of the above listed songs, that one friends episode, and a hint of muppets xmas carol… anyway! I had so much fun writing this and I wish I had the time to do a more in-depth story, but I have xmas eve to celebrate! I hope u all enjoy <3 italics indicates flashback!

Christmas just didn’t feel the same anymore. Even with the city drenched in green and gold, snow blanketed on the skyscrapers and apartments, it didn’t feel right. In Hawkins, Christmas felt like Christmas. In Boston, Christmas felt like any other day. And maybe it’s because Christmas isn’t just decorations and snow, it’s a feeling. It’s family. And here, you didn’t have any.

December had rolled around and you decided to decorate the small tree you got for your studio apartment. You pull out a small box of ornaments you’d brought from home and sit cross-legged on the hardwood in front of the pine. The smell of the tree brought you temporary happiness, as did hanging up the lights and bulbs. But when you pull out a specific ornament, your heart drops.

It was stupid, really. A random ornament that Steve, your ex, had found while out shopping. It was just a baseball player, but he thought it was funny. You did, too.

_“It’s me,” he said happily when you unwrapped it. “So we’ll always remember my bat-wielding skills.” He mimics swinging a bat and you laugh, holding it to your chest._

_“I’ll keep it forever in honor of you.”_

And you did keep it, even after you moved to Boston and left him behind. It wasn’t personal - you just needed to leave. You couldn’t stand it there anymore. You thought Steve felt the same, and he did, but he couldn’t leave his friends behind. He’d wake up in terror some nights, clinging onto you, crying and whispering that he couldn’t save them. He couldn’t carry those nightmares to Boston in fear of them coming true. So you parted, on interesting terms, and you hadn’t heard from him much.

_“Hi, it’s Steve. I’m probably doing something cool right now, so leave a message.”_

_“Hey, Steve. It’s --. I was just calling to see what your plans were since Thanksgiving is coming up. Just wanted to see how you were doing and all that. Checkin’ in. Um. Well. Give me a call back later, and I’ll talk to you soon. Alright? Bye.”_

_“Hey-o, it’s --. Leave a message and I’ll get back soon as I can.”_

_“Hi, it’s Steve. Um. Returning your call. Sorry it took so long to get back to you. Thanksgiving was good. Claudia burnt the turkey, so we had to go to a restaurant. It was pretty funny, though. Um. Yeah! What’s been up? Everything’s the same here. It’s snowing today. I hope you’re doing okay…. I’ll talk to you later.”_

It was phone tag for the past year. It was always scary and awkward trying to call, because you weren’t really sure if he hated you or not. He was, of course, heartbroken, wondering why you couldn’t just try long distance dating. You thought you knew yourself - you told him you couldn’t do it. That you needed a new start. To be away from the horror of Hawkins. But now….

You flip the ornament upside down. On the bottom, Steve wrote, “With love, from Steve. 12/1985.” You hang it gingerly on the tree, pausing for a moment before slowly continuing with your ornamentation, your mind hanging on to the last physical conversation you had with him.

_Steve kissed your palm gently. “Do you have to go?”_

_“Steve,” you whispered. “I’m sorry.”_

_“I don’t want you to be sorry,” he mumbled. “Want you to stay.”_

_You shook your head. “I… I can’t. I can’t, Steve.”_

_Steve looked down at your hand laced through his. His mouth opened and shut a few times before he managed, “Guess I can’t be enough to make you stay, huh?”_

_“You’re the only reason I stayed this long,” you stressed. “I just can’t anymore, Steve.” You licked your lips. “I wish you’d come with me.”_

_“And I wish you’d stay.”_

_You pulled your hand from his. “I guess we both want different things, huh?”_

_“Yeah,” Steve said with a mirthless laugh. “I guess we do.”_

_You frowned. “I love you, Steve.”_

_He looked up at you again. “You did once.”_

You found yourself crying as you hung the last ornament. You wonder what Steve’s doing, how he’s been. If he misses you in that same aching way that you missed him.

===

There’s ten days til Christmas, and Robin only just put the tree up. “Can you help me?” she asks, running a hand through her hair in front of the tree.

“No,” Steve mumbles, laying on the couch, the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head.

“Steve,” Robin sighs. “Come on. I know you love Christmas.”

“Christmas is stupid.”

Robin sighs again and heads towards the couch. She lifts Steve’s legs and sits before letting them rest in her lap. “Steve.”

“I don’t want to hear it,” he snaps. “Let me be sad, okay? Just once.”

Robin frowns. Steve had been doing so good all year. He bounced back considerably well after his two week mourning period. But she’s starting to learn quickly that the past year has just been Steve’s best performance yet. “Why don’t you call them?”

“They don’t need to hear from me,” he whispers. “Christmas is their favorite holiday. I don’t want to ruin it.”

“You know they still love you.” Robin pinches his calf through his sweats.

“It’s been a year. A year.” He says it like it’s unbelievable. “They don’t… they aren’t thinking about me.”

“You shouldn’t act like this,” she says. “You know -- isn’t hateful.”

“Well, we didn’t exactly leave on a good note,” he mumbles.

Part of Steve knows he should just listen to her. He knows he’s being spiteful and hateful and insecure. And that’s kind of part of the issue - Steve thought he was past this. He thought he was over being someone who clings and gets too close. And here he is, a year after you left, still mourning your absence. He picks the phone up weekly to try to get a hold of you, but he learned quickly that you either rarely answer or you’re rarely home. It seemed like you left him in the past for bigger and better things, and though he was genuinely happy for you, he was sad for himself. He just missed you. He missed going ice skating and baking cookies and watching stupid Christmas specials with you. Christmas used to be his favorite holiday, until you took it with you.

Robin pinches his calf again, pulling him out of his stupor. “Just call them.”

“ _You_ call them.”

So she did.

===

“Hello?”

“No shit,” you hear Robin Buckley say slowly. “Is it really you?”

“Robin!” You shout so loudly that you’re sure the neighbors woke up. You carry the phone and receiver to the couch. “Is that really _you_?”

“In the flesh. Or, well, in the phone.”

You laugh loudly. “Robin! How are you?”

“Same as always,” she says. “Still here.”

“How’s school?”

“Going to community college for now,” she says. “It’s not too bad. It’s not Columbia, but it’s something.”

“Ugh.” You fall back onto your couch. “I wish you’d come to the east coast. I miss you.”

“We miss you, too.”

“We?” you tease. “Does Dustin miss me so bad?”

“Everyone does,” she replies honestly. She looks towards Steve’s bedroom, door locked tight. “Steve does, too.”

“Oh.” You feel like your blood has frozen in the veins. “I… I miss him, too.”

“He doesn’t think you do.”

You sigh and run your hand over your face. “Rob. You know I do.”

“ _I_ do, but _he_ thinks you hate him.”

You bite your lip. “I wish he wasn’t like that.”

“Don’t we all,” Robin laughs. “Hey, what are you doing for Christmas?”

“Staying in by myself. Might watch some movies. What are you doing?”

“Most likely the same. Steve doesn’t want to celebrate.” You can almost hear her chewing on her lip. “He’s been so upset, --.”

You swallow hard, searching for the right words. You blurt out, “I miss him a lot. You, too.”

Robin chooses her words carefully, too, fingers twirling through the coiled phone cord. “You should come here.”

You laugh at that. “Come to Hawkins?”

“You miss us, don’t you?” Robin’s heartbeat kicks up. “--, I think you should see him.”

You scoff. “He doesn’t want to see me.”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“He hates me!”

“He thinks you hate him,” she says. “Funny how that works. And, anyway, even if he did, _I_ want to see you.”

You shake your head. “I don’t know, Rob.”

“Nothing weird has happened!” she promises. “Well, other than Mike growing his hair out, which is _really_ weird -”

“You know I have bad memories.”

“Don’t we all? You have good ones, too.”

_“Jesus, don’t fall,” Steve laughed, propping you up on his shoulder._

_“This shit’s hard!” you whined, trying once again to skate across the ice, Steve’s arm tight around you._

_“It’s not that hard,” he said. “Come on, follow me.”_

_You watched his movements and tried to mimic them, but Steve was pretty much just pulling you along. “Steve - shit, shit, Steve, I’m gonna -”_

_You fell on your ass, pulling Steve down with you. He landed with an ‘oof!’ beside you, then laughed. “You just broke my ass.”_

_“Well, maybe if it was nicer -”_

_Steve rolled on top of you, careful not to hit you with the blades. “What’d you say?”_

_You breath hitched. “I said, maybe if your ass was nicer….”_

_“You don’t seem to have any issues with my ass,” he beamed, inching closer to your face. “You seem to be pretty okay with it.”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“Yeah,” he whispered, nose touching yours. “And guess what?”_

_“What?”_

_Steve didn’t say anything. He just kissed you. His lips were warm, a solace from the cold, and you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him closer._

_“I’m hopeless,” you murmured against his lips._

_“Yeah,” he murmured back. “But damn, if you aren’t cute.”_

You sigh. “I guess I do.”

“Just think about it, okay? You’re welcome to stay here. With us.”

You bite your lip again and smile softly. “I’ll _consider_ it.”

===

Your decision to visit was so spontaneous that you didn’t even give Robin a head’s up.

It hit you in the middle of the night on the twenty third. You still loved him. You made a mistake leaving him behind. At the very least, you needed to see him. So you packed a quick bag, zipped it, reconsidered, then unzipped it.

“I’m not going,” you say out loud. “This is so stupid.”

You throw yourself onto the couch dramatically, eyes scanning the room. They land on the tree, softly glowing in the corner. Your eyes focus on the baseball ornament, and your heart twists. You sigh and pull yourself up. “Okay, I’m going. _This is so stupid.”_

===

Robin wakes up to shuffling out in the living room. She lazily flips to look at the clock - 2 a.m. She yawns, stretches, and gets out of bed. In the living room, Steve has clothes strewn about, dress shirts held up against him, a suitcase open on the couch.

“What the hell?” Robin asks sleepily.

Steve whirls around to face her, and smiles. “I’m going to Boston.”

It takes Robin a second to process. “You’re going to Boston?”

“To see --,” he says, throwing the shirt in his hands into his suitcase.

Similarly, Steve’s decision to go to Boston was at random. It was spurred on by a dream, which was more like reliving a memory. It made him wake up in a sweat, but in a good way. In an adrenaline inducing and loving kind of way. And he was going to ride that high all the way to Boston to see you. There’s some doubt sitting heavily in his chest, but he’s more determined than ever to get to you.

“Steve - it’s two in the morning.”

“Can’t wait,” he says. “I need to see them by Christmas.”

“Wh… do you even have a ticket?”

“Not yet.” He shuts the suitcase and zips it before gesturing to Robin to turn around. He changes into a more classy outfit while talking. “I’ll buy one at the airport. Will you drive me? Shit, I should get them a present. Do you think the airport has flowers?”

Robin blinks. “You want me to drive you to Indianapolis?”

“Yes.”

“At two in the morning?”

“Uh huh.”

“So you can go see the person you’re still in love with?”

“Correct.”

Robin steps towards the kitchen. “All right. Let me make some coffee.”

Once at the airport, Robin makes Steve promise he’ll call her when he lands, and again once he’s with you. “Give them a hug for me, okay?”

“If they let me, I will,” he promises, running his hand through his hair for the fiftieth time. “How do I look?”

“Fine,” she says, brushing his shirt. “Like a million bucks.”

“That’s my line.”

“And I stole it.” She smiles widely. “Good luck, buddy. I’ll see you on the other side.”

===

To say Robin wasn’t expecting you was an understatement.

She opened the door to your hopeful face early the next morning, clutching your bag to your chest. You smile widely when you see her, while Robin’s eyes widen and her stomach drops. “ _What?_ ”

“What?” you ask, shoulders falling. “I… I’m sorry, I guess I should have called -”

“Oh, shit,” Robin breathes.

“What?” you ask again, shoulders slumping lower. This wasn’t the warm welcome you were expecting. “I thought -”

“Steve’s on his way to Boston _right now_ ,” Robin says.

Your eyes widen and you drop your bag.

“And you’re here,” she adds, like it wasn’t obvious.

“And I’m here.”

Once the shock wears off, Robin ushers you in. “I - I gave him the mailing address you gave me a year ago -”

“That’s still my apartment,” you assure. “I just - oh, he’s going to have a hell of a time.” But then your excitement peaks. “Wait - he went to see me? Did he want to see me? Was he going to, like… he wanted to see me?”

“Stop being dramatic,” she says, grabbing the phone. “His flight was at 5 am. They said it’d take, like, _maybe_ three hours if there wasn’t a delay -”

“Three hours, plus unboarding time, plus luggage retrieval, plus hailing a taxi, plus travel time.” You glance at the clock on the wall. “So he should be there in twenty.”

“He said he’d call,” she mumbles, irritated. “If he did, we could avoid this whole thing.”

“It’s fine,” you say, sitting at the kitchen table. “I’ll call my apartment in twenty minutes and see if he can hear me. Easy.”

“He’s never been out of Hawkins alone before,” Robin says, resting her head in her hands. “He’s gonna flip his shit.”

You still can’t fight your smile - _Steve wanted to see you_. Nothing could have dampened your spirits, even if Steve was potentially lost and stranded in Boston. Hopefully he didn’t hate you after this.

===

Steve stands in front of your door, taking deep breaths, frozen in place. He finally steps forward and knocks, breath hitching. He looks down at the paper in his hand again to check that it was the right apartment and clutches the bouquet in his hands tighter. If his hands weren’t full, he’d mess up his hair with a hand.

Nothing.

He knocks again, a little louder this time, and checks his watch. It was eight in the morning - how the hell were you not here? Maybe you were asleep. He knocks again, yells your name. Nothing.

“You have to be kidding,” he whispers, and then he hears your phone ring. He sighs in relief, assuming the phone would wake you up. But then he hears your voicemail answer.

 _Are they dead?_ He worries, but then he faintly hears your voice through the door.

“Steve?”

“--?”

“Steve, I don’t know if you can hear me - I’m on the phone! I’m in Hawkins!”

Steve’s brows furrow but he presses his ear up against the door.

“I don’t know - _shut up, Robin_ \- I don’t know if you can hear me. I hope you can. I have a spare key under the mat - unlock the door!”

Steve fumbles and lifts the corner of your welcome mat, grabbing the key. His hands shook so hard that he had a bit of trouble, but he tried to focus on your voice.

“I’m going to sound so stupid if you’re not there,” he hears. “But I’ll stay on til the voicemail cuts me off or until you pick up. Shit, I hope you’re there -”

Steve finally gets the door open and rushes towards your voice, finding the phone. He shouts your name.

===

“Steve?”

You can hear the smile in his voice as he says, “Hi. Me.”

You smile and sink down into the seat at the table. “Hi, you.”

“Hi.”

“I’m in Hawkins.”

“I know,” he says. You can hear the smile in his voice. “I’m in Boston.”

“I know,” you say. “Steve - Steve, I missed you _so much_.”

“I missed you, too,” he says, sinking down to the floor of your apartment. “God, I missed you so much. I really wish you were here.”

“And I wish you were here.”

“I will be,” he says. “Just give me a few hours. _Don’t move.”_

“I won’t, swear,” you reply. “Tell the pilot to hurry.”

Steve laughs warmly. “Oh, I’ll be sure to tell him your request.”

“Steve,” you say. “Steve. God, I missed saying that.”

“I missed hearing it,” he says, eyes wandering to the baseball ornament on the tree. He smiles softly and reaches for it, holding it tightly. “Miss your face. I miss _everything_. Your apartment smells like you - ah, shit, I’m going to cry -”

“Don’t cry!” You grip the phone cord. “Stevie, just - hurry up. I have to see you. I love you.”

Steve’s head falls back to the wall and he moves the ornament to his chest. “I love you, too. Jesus, I love you.”

===

“I hate snow,” you remark, shifting in the airport seat.

“You love snow,” Robin corrects.

“Not when it delays flights by, like, a million hours.”

Robin narrows her eyes at you. “It was delayed _two_ hours.”

“Still sucks.”

You both watch the flight tracker intently, waiting for it to tell you that Steve’s plane landed. It was getting late, and you were getting impatient - and tired. You just wanted to see him.

And, finally, the plane lands.

You run ahead of Robin to the baggage area, unable to wait. You bounce on your feet nervously, worrying for the first time since you left Boston. What if he was mad at you? What if he thought you changed too much? What if -

But then he emerges, hair roughed up, eyes tired.

“Oh,” you sigh to yourself. “It’s you.”

Steve’s eyes meet yours and he beams brightly, his entire face lighting up. He begins pushing past people, muttering apologies as he rushes towards you. You don’t even think about it - you throw your arms around him and squeeze him as tightly as possible. It didn’t feel real to either of you, after a year of missing each other. He squeezes you back to tightly that you can hardly breathe - it’s perfect.

“Is that really you?” he mumbles into your hair.

“It’s me,” you say. “Can’t you tell by this fat ass?”

He laughs and pulls back. “Still got it, I see.”

“My ass, or my humor?”

“Both,” he says. His eyes scan you before he pulls you into him again. “Holy shit. I missed you.”

“I missed you.”

“Yeah?”

“Every day for the past year.”

He pulls back again and cups your face in his hands, rubbing your cheekbone with his thumb. His eyes well with tears. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

You grab his wrist and place your hand on his cheek. “I’m here now.”

He shakes his head slightly, brows knitting together. “I love you.”

You feel a tear slide down your cheek. “I love you, t-”

His lips are on yours in an instant, and nothing else matters. Not Robin saying, “Jesus, get a room,” not the people sifting around you, not the intercom announcements. Not the distance or the hurt or the ache. All that matters is Steve.

He breaks and pulls back, breathless. “We have a lot to catch up on.”

You smile. “Yeah, we do.”


End file.
